


The Princess, the Plan, and the Forest of Trolls

by rapunzariccia



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fairytalestuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-15
Updated: 2012-08-31
Packaged: 2017-11-07 19:47:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 42,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/434703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rapunzariccia/pseuds/rapunzariccia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time in a land far, far away, there was a princess of fair hair and lips dark as the orchid. Waiting for her one true love to rescue her had never seemed like an intelligent decision, and she took her fate into her own hands, intending to slip away and seek sanctuary in the kingdom that lay beyond the thick line of trees that contained a great many strange beasts. </p><p>In which Rose Lalonde has had enough of sitting around and gives the rest of the human world the slip. Includes various fairytale plots, a prince who really should know better, and not nearly enough musical numbers to be Disney-friendly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

In the highest room of the tallest tower in a castle far, far away, there is a girl. She sits locked away from the world, and contemplates what her next action should be. 

Several weeks of tower-arrest would leave one in no doubt as to how little entertainment one's room can afford, and easily such things of delight and pleasure can become dull in almost no time at all. Several months would prove to be more of a gruelling challenge to overcome yet. Spending so much time away from company and anything that could symbolise freedom could and would drive a girl to the absolute end of her tether. Several years is almost unfathomable, and yet it has happened. There is a girl shut away from the eyes of almost every other person in the kingdom, and she has once again reached the conclusion that there are not many options available to her. Once upon a time, she had had a great many ideas that, if implemented successfully, would have opened up an even greater variety of things to do and places to go. One by one, she has watched those ideas turn into doors in her mind's eye, and slam closed. Day by day, she has sat quiet and thoughtful, helpless and pitiable to those who knew of her. Not for a single moment does she regret the past that has brought her here. Yes, she wants so desperately for entertainment, but speaking her mind freely still seems a small price to pay, and it is not to say she has been deprived of things to do. She has asked for things, and been brought books, and many other things. She requested especially a pair of needles and enough thread to create more garments than she will ever be interested in wearing. Scarf upon purple scarf litter this elevated prison, and she has never donned a single one. 

She has not always been kept in such a fashion. There was a time where she too could walk freely, could leave her room unattended and do as she pleased. Those who now stood watch that had known her before her imprisonment would be unable to note much of a change outside of the obvious physical appearance. Even as a child, she had been quiet and calculating, with eyes too sharp for comfort, and a tongue to match. Her hair was now cut short, and she was taller than she had been, and quietly the men that guarded her door remarked that she was going to be a fierce woman no matter what. Quieter still, they feared her. A child unafraid to speak her mind when she knew the consequences was one most would have no dealings with, and seeing her mind remain entirely unchanged for years led them to believe that they were better off out of her way. They were most likely correct. While there would always be a price to pay for highlighting various truths that others would remain hidden, she felt it was one easier paid than keeping one's lips shut for a lifetime and seeing the world crumble around her. At least in this room the decline of her mother's good decisions were less obvious.

Her train of thought is broken by a knock at the door. She looks quickly to the skies outside her window, and notes that the sun is high above the land. It is lunchtime, and she is almost ready to carry her plan out.  
"Enter," she answers, and the door is pushed open immediately. One of the men that wait outside her door day and night enters the room bearing a tray of food, and sets it on the table. He hovers for a moment before she turns her gaze on him and nods in dismissal; he salutes and leaves. The guards are nothing but polite to her, but they do not waste time with her. She is thankful for this – were she to engage in too much chatter with them, it is entirely likely the Queen would have them dismissed instantly, and she would not have a man relinquished from his job for the minor crime of idle banter. Her feelings have no sway over the situation as it is; her majesty has already warned those assigned to this role not to become charmed by her daughter's serpent tongue, and there are a great number of rumours that flit about the castle without even her presence to fuel them. None say anything positive, and liken her to a charmer, a spinner of words who uses them to her advantage, who was luckily trapped by the Queen before she had a chance to mature and use her skills for the worse of the kingdom. She gives them no mind.

There is a note set upon the tray, and she holds back a sigh as she reads it. _Expect her majesty once you've eaten._ She pushes it to one side, reluctantly accepting the information, and eyes the rest of the tray. Her stomach growls, and then she is devouring what has been offered with none of the grace that befits a princess. She has never been underfed, though early in her imprisonment she refused food in a childish display of defiance. She knows much better now, and the idea of facing the one who has forbidden her to leave on a full belly appeals much more than an empty one. Once she is finished, she takes what is left and hides it under a sheet of material. It is nothing extravagant:  
two rolls of bread and a leg of chicken, but it is better than nothing, and it is necessary for what she plans. The food hidden, she crosses to the basin and takes care to wash the grease from her face. She would prefer that the frosty reception that awaits her not have a reason to look at her with a critical eye.

Her visitor is not announced with a knock, but she is ready and waiting nonetheless. The Queen sweeps in unaccompanied, and the prisoner averts her eyes so as not to catch the woman's gaze. For all of her sharp wit, she would rather not cross figurative blades with the authority. It is far too much trouble, however tempting it might be. She keeps her head bowed and hands folded, and the older woman stands tall and displeased.  
"Will you not greet me, Rose?" she asks, and there is no love in her command. That suits the girl just fine. She is used to being spoken to in such a manner.  
"Good afternoon, your majesty."  
Silence engulfs the room once more, and not for the first time, she wishes that her mother would stop pretending to care and keep to her business elsewhere. Neither of them want to see each other; there is no point in continuing this charade.  
"Are you well? Do you want for anything?"  
 _For you to leave,_ Rose thinks, but holds her tongue in check. It will do her no favours to anger the Queen. Instead she bobs - the shallowest curtsey she can get away with - and speaks: "I am in as good health as I ever was, and wish for nothing."  
"No more books? You have amassed quite the collection- though I rather expected you to immerse yourself in different titles."

She gestures at some of the books that sit on the nearby table, all of which have large titles printed to their spines. They are all fairy tales, and all have the same theme. A princess, locked in a tower, or the victim of some other nefarious plot, awaiting rescue from her knight in shining armour. Rose despises them, but had discovered early on that she was forbidden from requesting grimoires and other tomes of considerably darker content than children's stories. She made do with what she had, and had learnt from them.  
 _Fact: the one in distress is probably much more likely to find her happy ending if she ceases feeling sorry for herself at once and does something about her situation, rather than rely on the appearance of a prince (who for all she knows might not even turn up)._

"They've grown on me," she lies, and still cannot bring herself to meet her elder's eyes. She does not get a reply, and the Queen moves to better inspect the titles. Rose can name the books on the table without needing to look at them or their order - _Sleeping Beauty; The Snow Queen; The Frog Prince; Troll Jack and the Beanstalk; Snow White_ \- and knows also the titles of the other books stacked about her room. The Queen stops as she gets further down the pile, and Rose fancies she arches one brow in amusement.  
"A troll tale? I did not realise they produced stories as well. Are they not the figures we see in the books? Why, then, do they need their own tales?"  
"Documentation. Their stories must be factual accounts of their history. I see those more as truth than the fictional events that our own stories are."  
There is silence between the two of them once more, and if such a thing could happen, the girl would swear the air felt heavier. She does not add that the troll's tales are, while fanciful in places, not entirely over-exaggerated. Rose was quick to learn that fairy tales that originated from troll culture were always much more violent than the humans' own peaceful stories. She much preferred reading about children becoming sick of enslavement and murdering their captor to a girl who found love after losing a shoe. Not only was it more satisfying, it was much more feasible, and was all grounded in truth. It gave her hope for the future.  
"I suppose if you are learning, there can be nothing bad about them."

Rose almost laughs at that, and must bite her cheek to keep herself composed. How little her mother knows - and how shameful that is. Trolls were a strange race, different in appearance and soul, but that was no reason not to learn about them. From a few scant books, she had picked up so much: that their race followed a blood-caste; that they were violent creatures; that they felt emotions just as humans did and exercised them just as freely; that they loved in a multitude of ways. She knew that there were those who idolised them for their appearance, though she had never understood the desire to be horned, personally, and there were others who thought them beautiful. There was a certain elegance to a race that had no one set body type, she supposed: there were trolls with limbs like humans, and others that had adapted to their environment as the years had passed. If, a lifetime ago, Rose had drawn herself with a fish's tail instead of legs after seeing one of those strange creatures grin and wave at her from the sea, she would not admit to it now.  
She has also learned how to break a man's neck from those tales, but thinks the Queen's mind would be much calmer without that knowledge. She bobs again.

"You are sure you do not wish for anything else?"  
"Quite. I am entirely capable of making entertainment for myself with the things that I have around me. I am used to doing so by now."  
She cannot help the venom that is injected into her words: it seems that no matter how level-headed one is, there are things that will get under one's skin. She shuts her mouth again and feels a muscle jump in her jaw. The air becomes heavier with resentment, and the Queen lets it sit coolly about them. No doubt she knows that it is Rose who suffers the most of the two of them. No doubt she lets these pauses drag out to see if she squirms, to try and get some kind of reaction against her, and thus claim victory. Rose has never backed down, and now she lifts her gaze to meet the other's. They stare at each other, expressionless, neither any the wiser as to what truly goes on in the other's head - though they both think they have a good idea - until the Queen blinks, and turns to leave.

"Good day to you, then," she says, and then she is gone, all sweeping gown and straight back disappearing behind a heavy wooden door that clicks shut and locked. The girl lets loose a breath she did not fully realise she was holding, and refuses to note that her hands tremble. There are more important things to focus on rather than the inability to control herself: lunch has been served and taken away again, and the Queen has bore down upon her. There are few hours left in the day before the guards bring supper to her tower. It is time for her to leave.

She moves purposefully, sharp and determined, with none of the slow grace that she has practised for months in order to please others and appear as less of a threat. Rose has never intended to stay cooped up. Though she might not have known when she would leave, it was always something that played at the back of her mind. While even the other doors in her mind shut, there was one that had constantly remained open. It had always been her last resort: if the Queen did not change her mind and free her willingly, then she could simply play a role until enough suspicion was removed from her. Her mother's eye pointed elsewhere, she could now begin to act as herself once more. With no thrill pulsing in her veins - she would not allow herself to become giddy, not before she had left - she set about to work. The food hidden from her meal was taken from its place and shoved unceremoniously into a small bag, purple and knitted as so many other things in this tower were. A pair of ivory needles were placed besides them, and on top of them, the least fine clothes Rose owned. There would be no sense in wearing great silken ball gowns whilst on the run - it would be impractical, uncomfortable, and she doubted also of the protective ability of such garments. With the essentials collected, she turns her attention now to the many coils of knitted wool, and begins to tie their unfinished ends together. She has told those who have inspected her handiwork that she leaves each scarf unfinished in case she wishes to change the colour of thread, or pattern the ends, or do any number of things to them, and they have not for a single moment suspected her. Now she uses this to her advantage: nimble fingers work quickly to tie seemingly endless scarves together to create her escape tool, and before long, she is ready to leave. 

One end of her makeshift rope is tied around a bedpost, and she pulls hard on it to make sure that it will hold. It does. She crosses the room, bag in one hand, coils of wool in the other, to the window where she can survey the land below. She has watched the view most evenings for the last few months, and knows what the quickest route will be to escape. She knows where the shadows lay at each time of day, and where the guards place themselves. It seems as though it will be too easy, and for a moment she hesitates, mouth dry and mind full of doubt. _Surely they will suspect this. I would, were I her. Any moment now, someone will open the door and catch me, and they will throw me into the dungeons._  
The longer she waits, the more it becomes apparent that nobody is going to barge in and stop her, and that she wastes time. Her attention shifts back to the world below, and she knows that in a moment the guard will start to swap positions. There will be no-one at the base of her tower, no-one to stop her, and the forest will not take too long to reach. Now.  
 _Now._

She checks twice more before she lets her rope fall from the window. It tumbles, seems like it will catch against the stone more than once, and does not stop short of the ground. It lands and begins to coil there: far too long trapped here has given her more than enough time to create a woollen rope that will bring her safely to the ground. She winds one hand around the bag, careful to keep its contents from spilling out, and takes a handful of escape route in the other, gingerly easing herself from floor to windowsill, placing her weight and trust in her creation. Her palms are beginning to dampen, and her heart hammers in her chest, but there is no sense in stopping. She thinks the bed creaks - feels her mouth turn dry again - resists the urge to climb back into her room and await her evening meal - forces herself to turn, place her feet against the outside of the tower, and starts to walk her way down.

Her nerves are on fire the entire time. Her ears are more open than they have ever been before - she keeps thinking she hears cries from below, a call to arms, _anything,_ but each time she risks a glance she sees the way clear and unattended. This seems as though it is too easy, too smooth an operation, and she cannot believe that this is going according to plan. Nothing disproves that this is her reality, and then she is halfway down the tower. It is here that she gains confidence. Rose swallows, takes a deep breath, and accepts that this is happening. She walks downward some more and keeps her eyes trained on the sky. One step. Another. And again.

–And then she feels something that isn't stone against her feet, and jolts back to full cognitions, and she is feeling _grass and dirt against her feet for the first time_ in how long? She almost wastes time marvelling, but the urgency of her situation captures her attention once more. She is out of the tower, but that doesn't mean she is free. Not yet. There are still things to do: creep about without being seen, and find some way of taking a guard's boots - for her own shoes are back in the tower and nothing more than thin slips of material - and then, only then, can she make a run for it. And she must be quick, for there are footsteps not so far from where she stands. Rose darts away, following no particular path, and feels the first shock of satisfaction when she hears a cry go up. The guards will have discovered her knit road to freedom, and she will not have much time. There must be something she can do to hide-

and an idea comes to her. She does not recoil from it, as so many of royal blood undoubtedly would, but there is little else she can do at this moment that would protect her. She prays it works, and crouches down, dropping her bag to grab at handfuls of earth. She does not hesitate to cover her face and hair with the stuff, and her dress - the plainest she could find in her wardrobe, and yet, still too extravagant for her liking - receives the same treatment, until she is good and scruffy and hopefully unrecognisable at first glance.  
"Hey!"  
Her fevered actions stop suddenly, and she looks up. A man in guardsman's garb is approaching her, but he seems friendly. As though he does not know her. A moment passes wherein Rose wonders how many in the palace remember her face, and then he is next to her, one hand upon her elbow, guiding her to stand. She snatches her bag and follows his movements, keeping her back hunched as she stands once more.  
"Is everything well with you, young lady? Goodness, and I was worried for a moment that you had fallen and hurt yourself!"  
Rose turns her head to him as much as she dares, and smiles. It makes her face feel strange. "Why thank you, sir. No harm done. I tripped, is all. Not the first time such a thing has happened."  
The guardsman lets go her arm, and glances the way she has come from. _Oh no_ , Rose thinks. _Not so soon. He'll know it's me, He'll-_  
"I say!" he interrupts her thoughts as he returns his glance to her. "You've no shoes on! Whatever is a young thing like you doing without such an important item of clothing doing in the palace?"  
She opens her mouth to respond, but he reaches a conclusion before she is able to present a case to him. "Could it be-" he lowers his voice and drops his head closer to her. Rose does the best she can not to lean away from the moustache that has suddenly invaded her peripheral vision. "-you are begging?"

Once more, she wonders how everything can be going so smoothly. There must be something that smiles favourably upon her - perhaps the gods of fairy tales, who allow princesses squirrelled away from the world to do as they please and have everything work out for them. The thought makes her smile shrink. She does not want to be a damsel in distress. She is taking matters into her own hands. Luckily, the guardsman thinks that his question has hit a sore spot, and rightfully so. Beggars are not allowed to enter the palace, though the rule does not stop them. For the most part, they are dealt with kindness, often with an old loaf and what must be the least threatening warning ever to slip past a man's lips. _Here it is. Here it comes. He is going to be an ass of a guard, and show me up. My luck has run out._  
He raises his head once more, and places a hand on her back, pushing her away from the commotion that she barely escaped. "Come with me," he says. "I cannot afford to give you much time, but a lady should not be allowed to wander shoe-less, no matter her station! I have an old pair of boots I can give you, and after that I must ask you to leave."  
 _Or not._  
Rose smiles and nods her head in thanks, allowing herself to be guided elsewhere. The tumult behind them fades, and soon enough they find themselves in what must be this man's office. He lets her hover awkwardly in the doorway, attention on a great cupboard that no doubt holds that last thing she needs to escape, and rummages in silence for a moment.  
"I expect they will be rather too big for you, but no matter about that, eh? Slightly too big is better than nothing at all."  
"Thank you," she replies, and means it. Despite the disastrous rule of a monarch who takes too well to drink, there were still a great deal of good-natured people in her mother's land. "I will have to repay you someday, even if I can offer little."  
"Not at all!" he says, and pulls a pair of worn leather boots out triumphantly. He brings them to her and sets them down with a genuine smile upon his face. "All I ask is that you remember the name of sir English and think well of it from time to time."  
She nods her head, and bends to pull the boots on. They are, as he warned, too big for her, but she would rather wear these than tramp about a forest barefoot. She has been far luckier than she should have been, and she is almost there. She is almost free.  
"Thank you," she says again. "I am sorry to have taken your time like this. I'd best be on my way."  
"That you should, and I'll not breathe a word of your presence, lady!" he winks at her, and gestures to the door. "I've things to be getting on with in here, so I'll have to trust in your ability to get out. A good day and safe journey to you, madam!"

And just like that, she is allowed to go. The guard takes his place at his desk and pulls out a sheaf of papers, a grin still on his face, and she exits. It is strange to walk in footwear too large: her steps become less steady, and she uses the slowed pace to feel her bag. It is still full with the items she packed, though she assumes the food is perhaps a little dustier after its unceremonious descent to the floor. It doesn't bother her: freedom is only a walk away, and every step takes her further from the gathering of guardsmen. She is disguised as best she can- she has received a couple of glances from people going about their business, but she knows that they see her only briefly, and covered in dirt, and heading away from where the most people usually gather. She hopes that this means they think of her as a beggar-lady leaving the palace, and nobody stops her to prove otherwise. It seems far too good to be true.

Rose walks to the forest that has intrigued her for such a large part of her life. Even when she had been free, she had been forbidden from entering it, and that had only fuelled her curiosity further. _A great many strange beasts live there,_ says a voice in her mind that reminds her of her mother's handmaid, one of the few that had cheerfully ignored the girl's stoic nature and talked to her most days. _Trolls of all manner of shape and size, and most of them with a hunger for human flesh. I've heard of them with gills as can breathe underwater, and ones that look like animals 'til they take their skins off._ It was a vast forest that apparently spanned a great many miles in any direction, and supposedly separated another human civilisation from this side of the world, where Queen Lalonde ruled. Rose had never been certain just how far their land extended, but knew it to be a great area. The idea of ruling it had never appealed to her. Escaping it seemed much better.

"Are you _absolutely sure_ this is the right way?"  
"When have I ever been wrong about anything before? That's rhetorical, don't answer that."  
"I just think if we stop horsing around and _go the other way_ , we'll get to the castle a lot quicker. Look, this is obviously just where the locals live, it doesn't seem high-brow at all."  
"..."

The local people watch the men on horseback argue, and wonder just how directionally challenged they must be to ride further and further into the village. If they wanted the castle, they were going in completely the wrong direction. The men are dressed in obvious finery, and it is clear that they have business with her majesty. It is also clear that this is not the first time they have found themselves not entirely in the correct situation: one, clad in armour with a sword resting at his side and a red cloak that hangs limp behind him, looks utterly exasperated. The other, in different colouring though much the same style, fiddles with the reins and has the good nature to at least look sheepish. His horse shakes her head, and he reaches forward to pet her crest.  
"Almost there, girl." he raises his head to glance at the other man, and adopts a long-suffering expression that somehow doesn't suit him. "Okay, Dave. Fine. Lead the way." His companion mutters something, and tugs his reins to pull his horse around. He is followed in suit by the other, and they retrace their steps, leaving the village and heading toward the castle. The closer they get, the more obvious it becomes that they were going completely the wrong way. Dave does not miss this, and mentions it.  
"How about you shut your mouth! We're here now, and that's what matters. Look, Casey," he says, talking to his horse again, and his riding partner grins. He knows a victory when he sees one. "We'll get you some water in a while, you won't have to wait much longer now. You and Maplehoof can rest-"  
"I told you to stop calling him that. It's a dumb name. He's Cal, got that-"  
"Cal is a dumb name. You are the master of dumb names! Perhaps I should retitle you. The Knight of Idiocy works."  
"If you do that, you'd only make yourself the Prince of Cretinism. Sure you want to go down that road?"  
"That is _not_ what would happen!"  
"So is."  
"Stop that! I am the one in charge, not you, and I refuse to be titled anything stupid like that! Look, just shut up, that's not why we came here- good day," he adds, smiling down at the guards who have come to greet them. Dave laughs next to him and knows he will have his foot stamped on later. _Totally worth it._ "We've travelled a long way to visit her majesty. Could you take our horses?"  
"Who are you?" one guardsman asks. Another rolls his eyes visibly.  
"You're an idiot if you can't recognize the prince of the neighbouring kingdom. Welcome, sire," he says, and bows. The addressee smiles and waves a hand airily.  
"More than alright! It's refreshing, not being stared and pointed at everywhere I go. The Queen is in, right?"

Two of the three men take their horses' reins and help the men dismount. They stretch as best they can in armour, and the slightly shorter one attempts to surreptitiously return blood flow to his buttocks. Their welcoming party turns their eyes away from the motion, and instead salutes to them.  
"I am captain of the guard: sir Dirk. If you will follow me, sirs."  
He seems a nice enough man, though not eager to start conversation. The prince opens his mouth and glances at his knight, who shakes his head, and conversation is stilled for a while longer. They walk and take in the beauty of the castle – for all the wrongs this kingdom might contribute to the world, it still boasts a magnificent piece of architecture, and it impresses all visitors - and before long, they are ascending a grand staircase to an even grander set of doors. Dirk halts them for a moment to approach the doormen and speak with them, and the newcomers take a moment to breathe deep.  
"This is it! It's happening!"  
"Calm down."  
"I am so calm. I am the calmest. It is me."  
Their guide returns to them, and announces that the Queen will receive them at once. They nod, straighten, take another breath and nod once more. Dirk turns and leads them forward - the doormen push the doors to the throne room open - they take another deep gulp of air to clear their minds -  
"Introducing his majesty King Egbert of Maple Valley's heir, Prince John, and his companion, sir David Strider, a Knight of Egbert's court."

The two men approach the lady that sits upon the throne and kneel. She watches them without expression, a powerful lady waiting for their next move. Dave chances a glance at her, and swears he will never forget the colour of her eyes. They are the pink of clouds at sundown, and they reveal nothing. They are easily the eyes of a Queen, and something that is nearly fear courses through his veins. If these are the eyes of the ruler now, then he dreads to think what colour her daughter's must be: she who has spoken out and is rumoured to be even more calculating and cold than the woman that now receives them.  
"It is an honour to meet you, your majesty!" John says from beside him, and he can tell that only excitement runs through his friend's body. "We have travelled for a long time to come here and wish you nothing but good health!"  
Dave tries not to roll his eyes. The boy could just get to the point. The queen seems to have this opinion as well, for she lifts one delicate eyebrow, and motions at the maid closest to her, who bobs and skitters off.  
"And what is the purpose of this visit?" she asks, voice strong. Her attendant returns with a glass of clear liquid that she takes, and taps a fingernail against it. Her visitors glance at each other, and lift from kneeling. John takes a step forward and tries not to puff himself up too much.  
"I have come to, ah, to rescue your daughter and ask for herhandinmarriage!"

He speaks too quickly, and his words slur together into one great mess that the rest of the room can barely understand. Dave can't help twisting his mouth in second-hand embarrassment. _Not cool_. It takes the Queen a moment to figure out what has just been said, and her expression does not change. She taps her nail against the glass again, still not lifting it to drink, and looks directly at John, who for all his faults, does not waver under her intense stare.  
"And what does my daughter need rescuing from? There are no dragons keeping her captive, nor wicked witches that have cursed her. I should think that such endeavours are best suited for other realms, young prince."  
It is not unknown that it was this woman that locked the princess away, nor under what conditions the deed was done. Other kingdoms know and have quietly spoken against her: none approve of what she has done, and yet none can speak out. Queen Roxy's rule is tight and can be ruthless, and there is nobody who would risk breaking an alliance with her. It is a good question, and one that requires an answer that cannot be given.  
"... Uh, metaphorically speaking, I guess," the prince supplements, and now does look down, away from her unwavering gaze. "It's my duty to save and marry a damsel of royal blood, so- I guess I got carried away with daydreams and the like."

"Hm," the Queen says. There is a heavy silence that fills the throne room. Dave feels a bead of sweat at his neck and ignores it. "Janey, tell them." The maid that brought the Queen her beverage now steps forward as the drink is lifted and supped, and begins to explain. "Much as we are loathe to admit it, you have come all this way for nothing. The princess is not here."  
"Not here? But-"  
"Rather than wait for your highness, she found a way to escape and leave undetected. We don't know where she is, or where she plans to go. You have our most sincere apologies."  
The Queen finishes her drink, and sets it down on the tray of a second waiting attendant. The action seems final.

Knowing that if she stops even for a moment she is likely to be found, Rose has not stopped since her less than grandiose escape. Once or twice she has glanced over her shoulder at the castle that has slowly been receding into the background, and she stops moving to look at the landscape as she reaches the line of trees that marks her entrance to the troll's land. The sun is sinking and will soon be below the horizon, and it casts a soft red light over the land. The air is cool, and the birds are beginning to nest. She has not been outside in so long, and the world is exactly as she remembers it to be. The similarity between reality and her memories is both soothing and just a touch infuriating. So long had she been cooped up for that she had been thinking of the world as a great sentient being that would rise up in celebration when she finally managed to escape, and would show her so many things that she had never encountered before, and fill her with a great indescribable joy. Instead, the world ignored her as she ran, and she frowned as she realised that she had inadvertently become some ghost of the princesses in books that she had immersed herself in.  
 _How pathetic of me. I shouldn't have expected anything different._  
With one last glance at the world, she turns and continues on her way. There is no use in lamenting childish daydreams when there is still a journey to go on.

What first strikes her is the silence that the forest envelopes her in. There is something comforting about the way the trees absorb the noise, though it is remarkably eerier than anything else. Rose stops once she thinks she is well away from the thin entrance and tries to listen for other creatures, but can hear nothing except for her own breathing. She wonders how silently trolls move, and banishes the thought as quickly as she can. She does not need to scare herself. _Best to stay aware, though._ She makes herself step further, not wanting to stay close to the forest's entrance - there is so much distance to be covered if she is to make it to the other side. She cannot stop for any reason, she must keep going-

"Hey."  
Rose stops. Is it that easy for trolls to sneak up on her? This is their natural environment, she supposes, and she cannot fault them for learning how to traverse it with minimal disruption to the rest of the world, but she had thought she would be able to get deeper into the forest before they came across her. Having her flesh eaten is not on her list of things to do. She pulls herself from her thoughts and looks around sharply, trying to find the source of the sound and hoping the troll isn't too ferocious.  
"What are you, blind? I'm right in front of you."

There is indeed a figure only a few feet from the runaway girl, and it is shameful to note how lost Rose must have been in her thoughts not to notice her. It is very obviously a troll, and one who is wearing a bright orange cloak over muted and tattered greys. It is also a female, but that does not make Rose feel any better. Any and all trolls are dangerous, and this one seems as though there is something not quite right with her. She is a figure to be wary of. A pair of mismatched horns protrude from her head, likely the cause of the holes in her cloak's hood, and one eye is covered with a black rag. As Rose's eyes are drawn the strange figure's hidden one, she grins, and reveals fangs.  
"Not lost, are you?"  
"I know where I'm going," Rose returns, and doesn't know how scared she should be right now.  
"That doesn't mean you're not lost! You could be going in completely the wrong direction to where you want to go."  
Rose has no answer for this, and settles for giving the troll her best unimpressed stare. Back at the palace, it had the effect of putting an end to any conversation a guard might have tried to have with her. Their words would taper off and an uneasy silence would surround them; it was for the most part better than listen to them talk about whatever was going on in their lives. Rose had never been able to muster up the strength of will for her only source of information to be how many times a man's wife had smiled at him across the dinner table. Now, the troll simply grins wider, and nods as though impressed.  
"Hey, you've got an attitude. I like that. You sure you aren't lost, girly? Or let me guess- you're scared I'm gonna eat you." She waits for an answer, though it becomes quickly apparent she will get none. She nods again. "You got nothing to worry about! Ain't gonna hurt you. In fact- I'm gonna offer you something instead. Look at me, being all godlusus-like. I'm a fuckin' _saint_.”

The troll unfolds her arms and claps her hands together, still grinning. She's not only fearsome, but enthusiastic, and Rose knows these qualities most likely do not make the kindest of troll hearts. She wiggles her toes inside her too-large boots, hoping for purchase in the likely event she needs to run, though she isn't too sure how far she'll be able to make it before they come off and she scratches her feet too badly to move. Perhaps she can overpower the figure in front of her and take her footwear instead of wearing something made for a middle-aged guardsman - though that idea is quickly dashed. A glance down reveals that the troll is not wearing shoes of any kind, and has only two fat toes at the end of a slender foot.  
"So how's this! I, being the kindest soul in this damn forest, will offer you my services. I'll be your guide, get you from A to B, fight off all the other trolls for you. Keep your pretty pink flesh from getting torn apart. Sounds good, right?"  
"I fail to see how I can be sure that you are telling the truth and are a trustworthy source," Rose says, and straightens her back. "I have been warned of trolls enough not to want to trust you, and you have given me no proof as to your credibility. I don't even know your name."

The silence returns. The troll blinks her one visible eye, and Rose's pulse beats hard at her neck in anticipation. Then, as though she has suddenly said something hysterical, the troll throws her head back, narrowly missing scraping one horn against a thick tree trunk, and laughs. She laughs harder than Rose has ever seen anyone laugh before. It is as though the biggest joke of the universe has been revealed to her and she at last _gets it_.  
"Can't trust me!" she says, and howls with laughter again. It takes a moment for her to regain her composure. "You can't trust anyone! Some trolls are less likely to break your neck, but you can't go around putting _trust_ in everyone you meet. You just gotta throw your lot in with the ones willing to help you and pray you're lucky!" she flashes her fangs at Rose again, who remains looking unimpressed. The troll shrugs. "If you're that bothered, my name's Vriska. And what's your name, fussyfangs?"  
"I don't have fangs. ... Rose," she adds, and takes a step back as the troll moves forward.  
"Think about it. Rose and Vriska! We'd be a kickass team while we were together. No troll would want to come anywhere _near_ us. I can guarantee your safety, and all it'd cost is whatever you've got to spare. Boonies, jewels, a pass through the Condesce's garden- whatever's good."

To a less cynical and well-read person, the offer might have appealed. Rose knew better than to accept, no matter how tempting the idea of a guide was: no doubt she would be taken to a dark corner and slaughtered for whatever reason. Survival on her own seemed a much better option.  
"No thank you," she answers, which stops Vriska's smile. "I know where I'm going and I will be able to make it on my own. Thank you for the offer, but I will have to decline. Have a good day."  
With that, she turns to the right and continues her journey, leaving the cloaked troll behind her looking almost offended. There seems to be some sort of pathway between the trees that winds a little, but is well-trod and a much more reliable thing to choose than going by memory alone, and as she leaves her would-be guide behind, the silence returns. Rose is content with it this time. She will follow the path until she can do so no longer, and then she will find another way through the forest. Determination makes for a strong will.

Vriska stands alone. She breathes steadily, evenly, slowly. She does not fidget, nor do any of her muscles twitch or jump uncontrollably.  
"Mom," she says, and waits. Before long there is a low chittering, a noise that small animals run away from without waiting to see the face of the beast that makes it. From above, a gargantuan spider descends, a little bigger than the troll that called it. Its pincers click, and it waits to be spoken to again. "Didn't think there'd be anything stupid enough to shun me. Not now, not ever. She's gonna learn a lesson, mom. You don't act like a callous cold-blooded reptile of a human in this forest and get away with it. Not toward Vriska Serket. She's gotta pay."  
The spider clicks a few more times and all eight of its eyes blink one after the other. There is a moment of inaction, before it retracts its web, and lifts into the air once more. Vriska waits until it is entirely out of sight and hearing before adjusting the rag that covers a good portion of her face, and strides off in the opposite direction that Rose had taken.

Night falls. The forest grows darker and ever more strange. Rose had assumed by her earlier confrontation with another troll that this strange race liked to show their faces as the sun began to set, but that no longer appeared to be the case. She had seen no other troll while walking, or heard anything to suggest that she was not alone in this forest. As the field of her vision became even more limited, she realised that the forest was slowly springing to life. Nothing showed itself, but she heard enough to be disquieted at the very least. Chittering and a murmur that couldn't be just a wind blowing through the leaves above seemed to have followed her for some time now, and at one point she had stopped moving and shut her eyes to listen hard. She had been rewarded with the same eerir silence that she had been met with upon entering the forest, and hoped she wasn't being followed.  
 _There is enough time for a short break_ , she reasons. Here, there is no place suitable enough to lay her head for the night, and the tree branches that surround her are much too high for her to scale alone and safely. She sits upon a fallen trunk, eats what little she had brought with her and relieves herself - it is here that Rose decides if she ever makes it through the forest alive, she is going to commission a bard to write a truthful tale about her journey, including how difficult it is to squat in the middle of a strange environment and relax oneself enough to go. She is not immobile for too long, and sets off with barely any light to guide her.

It is strange, then, that she sees a very clear and obvious light in the distance. She had not expected to see anything, let alone what looks like a small but comforting light - perhaps it is a fire, a long way off? A fire would be good to rest by, she decides, and walks with more determination. Rose is prepared for most anything. She thinks she might find a group of trolls cooking, who will look at her and hopefully be sated enough by what they are making rather than decide to have her. Perhaps - hopefully - it is abandoned, and she can rest by it easily without worrying too much.  
She is not expecting a single troll boy sitting atop an oversized mushroom with a lit stick of what smells like - she isn't sure. It isn't tobacco. He does not notice her, and she keeps still as she watches him, fascinated despite herself: he is similar in figure to her would-be guide, thin and gangly, though he is much more unkempt. His hair seems tangled and wild, and only his lower half is covered. His face is slathered with some kind of white substance - wax, perhaps - and three dark lines mar his nose and forehead. He blows smoke rings lazily into the air and smiles at them. Rose deems him safe, and steps forward.  
"Excuse me."

She had been expecting a much more alert response; the boy should have shoved himself off his elbows and jumped from his perch to stalk forward and be just as menacing as the storybooks had informed her trolls were wont to be, or maybe just as overbearing as Vriska had. He instead ignores her entirely, and licks his upper lip.  
" _Excuse_ me," she repeats, and he cuts her off before she can say more.  
"I all up and heard you the first time, sister. You're fuckin' excused."  
His brashness surprises her, and she is quiet long enough for him to take another drag at his not-quite-tobacco stick. "Could you point me in the direction of a place to rest?" He exhales deeply before answering. Rose does not like the pace of the conversation, and keeps her mouth firmly closed. "Now that I could, but now's not the time for resting. Did your body forget what it fuckin' runs on? We thrive on the fuckin' starshine, sister. Not even a worn out wiggler'd want to sleep now."  
"You can't _see_ the stars in here," she interrupts.

There is another extended silence where he very obviously mulls this statement over and scratches his head. Rose rolls her eyes, and makes to keep walking.  
"Now you hold your toes there. 'S not manners to run out on a conversation." He pushes himself up and flicks the butt of whatever he's been smoking over the side of the mushroom to get his first glance of the impatient girl. He does not look surprised when he sees her, instead choosing to scratch his chin absently. Rose stares back. "Never thought I'd see a human in here," he comments, and then goes back to tackling the issue at hand. "But see, you can't see the fuckin' stars, but you can hear 'em. Have you let your head get its absolute chill on?"  
 _Of course I haven't. There's a good chance I'm being chased by a psychotic she-troll who likely wants to kill me after her services have been shunned, and I'm miles away from anything I'm used to. It's dark and I know nobody and I just want to find somewhere to sleep._  
Rose says nothing. The troll is looking at her expectantly, like she is supposed to be listening. She shuts her eyes to better concentrate, and hears nothing.  
"There you _go_ ," says the troll, and he sounds satisfied. "They're a-tellin' me that there's a fleshy kid here that's all up and needing a place to stay."

She cannot believe what she is hearing. Or seeing, as she opens her eyes; he is nodding sagely to himself as though he really is hearing some kind of mystical voice and his think pan hasn't just caught up with what she asked for what already feels like years before. However long it might take to stumble across an answer that she can actually used, she thinks it might be worth it. He does not seem unfriendly, or in much of a state to do anything but sit and grin. Rose glances around, spies a fallen branch, and sits on it, waiting.  
"There's a big stone hive somewhere back there," he starts, and waves a hand vaguely in the direction Rose has come from.  
"No," she says The troll lifts his eyebrows. "I came from there. I'm looking for a place to stay in the forest."  
"You keep your hoofbeasts on a rope and see they calm their glutes!" He sounds much sharper this time, like there's a part of his brain that hasn't been utterly fried. "You're not going back to your hive?"  
"No. I'm running away. I'm better off here than I would be there."  
He _hmm_ s thoughtfully, and drums his fingers against the mushroom. He does not look as though he will speak any time soon, and Rose uncrosses and recrosses her legs. She is beginning to think that perhaps she should have chosen a different route and cut around the forest. At least humans would make more sense than these strange fickle creatures. She waits for likely a shorter time than the eternity it feels like before she convinces herself that this troll boy isn't going to answer. She stands.  
"It was clearly a mistake asking you for help," she says, and still does not get a reply. "I presume I am going in the correct direction. Thank you for your time, and have a pleasant evening."

She makes to leave, and the troll moves quicker than she had thought he would be able. He slides off the oversized fungus and lands deftly on his four toes, blocking her way. He is taller than she thought he was, though he is hunched over, and nodding as though he has an answer.  
"Before you go making your way and getting into all kinds of trouble, you might as well take a fuckin' potion."  
Whatever Rose had been expecting, it wasn't that. His hands slide into hidden trouser pockets, and he extracts them full of small bottles. They are filled with vibrant colours and stoppered with wax. She trusts none of them.  
"I'm fine, thank you."  
"Naw," he says, and shoves his hands at her. The bottles clink. "S'all a part of being a guide. Gotta help the ones who need it. You're all dead and set on making your way through this fuckin' place, so you gotta take something to help. I gotta stay here in case there's others who crawl on over in need, got it? So these'll just have to do."  
"... Very well." It is a reasonable explanation, though she wasn't expecting any actual help. It is a damn sight better than the questionable-at-best offer that Vriska had made, and she decides that if she does not want to use the gifts, she can get rid of them later. "What do they do?"

He merely shakes the bottles at her in lieu of an answer. Rose is about to make some snappy comment, patience pushed to its utmost furthest limit, before she notices the labels. That keeps her quiet, and she reads for a moment. The handwriting is atrocious, but she withholds comment on that aspect.  
"Some of these seem like they'd be useless," she says instead. "Who would possibly want to lose use of their legs simply to become a better kisser?"  
"You'd be surprised, sister," he replies, and grins. It is entirely unsettling having a face smeared with white reveal even whiter teeth in such close proximity. Rose returns her attention to the bottles, and reaches for one that is filled with blue.  
"I can only think of needing luck in here. I'll take this one."  
The troll nods, and returns the others to his pockets once more. She had expected him to turn serious, to tell her that there was some kind of side-effect that would make her be unable to talk, perhaps, or simply to warn her about the dangers of the forest and wish her luck on her travels. He does no such thing and merely clambers back onto his mushroom to lay on his back and stare at the leaves far above. Rose waits for a moment longer to see if he will do anything else, and when he doesn't, bags the bottle and continues on her way.

High above, the spiders chitter and plan their next move.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Publishing this now to motivate me with writing the next chapter, but this and the previous chapter will be edited at some point in the future with illustrations kindly offered to me by a good friend. Check back every now and again and hopefully it'll be updated thusly.

"So when are you going to tell me what this 'great plan' of yours is?"

Two horses plod on, leaving a great castle far behind them, and a new destination barely visible in the distance. They tread on as though they could never be tired, though if they were allowed words they would surely complain about hooves that ache without end and the weight of bickering riders atop their backs. One harrumphs, and is patted. The other swishes its tail and concentrates on putting one hoof in front of the other.

"Soon enough."  
"You aren't taking me back to the kingdom and telling me to sit my ass still again, are you? I'm determined to do this, and I'll do it _right_ , I'm not going to sit around and-"  
"Troll and human gods alike, shut up. I know how excited you are to do this stupid-"  
"It's not stupid!"  
"-rescue mission, and if you'll remember correctly, I'm the only one that agreed to tag along with you because I thought this wouldn't be a massive waste of time. I thought we'd have the princess back now- or at least be on our way back with her."  
"And you love me."  
"Yes, that is exactly right," the knight says, and his tone is entirely dry. This only serves to make his messy-haired accomplice grin. "The other reason I am at your constant beck and call. I'm so in love with you that every moment that I'm not sharing the same space as you is an insult to my senses. If it weren't for the fact that I am but a lowly guardsman and you are the heir to the kingdom, I'd jump off Cal this very moment and propose to you. Also, your father would kill me."  
"Stop talking," the prince laughs, and casts an interested eye behind them. Lalonde's palace is receding further and further into the far distance behind them. The towers look much less imposing from this far away; soon enough he thinks the castle will be nothing more than a speck on the edge of the earth, all memory of its greatness and its helmswoman kept at the back of his mind. "Come on, tell me already. You said we weren't going back home- why are we going south?"

As the palace has been sinking from view below the horizon, so has the sun. The sky is streaked magnificently with oranges and pinks, and the air is cool and pleasant. There isn't much ahead of the riders: there is only so far they can travel in any direction before they approach either a thick line of trees or come to a swift-flowing river. To the west is nothing but open plains for miles, and they have decided not to go that way - there aren't many places that the princess could escape to, and they doubt she lacks enough mind to think barren nothingness the best place to be.

John does not understand why they are going south at all: they think the cunning runaway has fled north or east, to faraway villages or the intimidating forest. Certainly not back the way they had originally come from. There are one or two villages along the way, but they are still under Queen Roxy's rule, and it does not make sense that the princess would seek refuge somewhere that she is likely to be captured and returned as soon as recognised. Besides that, the villages offer nothing of interest to the crown prince, and his companion should have no business with them, either. 

The Strider line had been born and all raised within Maple Valley; the men became knights or guardsmen of the court, and the women ladies of importance. Such a prestigious line had easily caught the eye of many a monarch, and it now fell to the youngest of the lineage to accompany the prince wherever he wished to go. It was an honour to the family to care for the royal line, and so Dave kept his mouth shut on the topic of the prince's insufferable antagonism at all times.

Likewise, the prince rather enjoyed his knight's company most of the time, but felt much too stifled being supervised all the time. Heavens forfend, he was nineteen now, of age, with no need for anyone to aid him. His sword-arm had been proven most worthy, and his courage was not lacking.  
That, at least, was how the texts commented on the young prince, who thought of himself as daring and friendly. His father had appointed him a personal guard rather than let the boy show himself up with a weapon for the hundredth time in a month. The men were friendly, and at a glance one wouldn't guess that both sorely wished for time apart.

"You're not going to stop bothering me until you get answers, are you?"  
"No, I'm not. Come on, don't be such a tease, _tell me_."  
"Fine, I got it- quit bugging me. How well do you know the people that live in these hamlets? Not at all, I'm guessing."  
"What kind of question is that? I live in the castle, I don't get to talk to anyone that isn't official."  
"Didn't think so. You might be amazed to hear this, but I know people that live-"  
" _No_ , the great David Strider _knows_ people?"  
"-around here," Dave continues, ignoring the tone and making a note to punch the prince's arm for it later. Gently, though. Three days hard riding never did wonders for anybody's mood. "Just kids that can help me out when I need it, that kind of thing. I'm pretty sure the one I'm thinking of will be able to help us find your lost princess and return her home safe and sound."

"So we're going to a village to find someone with a map. Great, why didn't we just bring one with us-?"  
"John," his knight cuts across him, and the prince shuts up. He is being fixed with a hard look, and thinks for a moment that he has perhaps crossed a line. Just a moment. He raises one eyebrow, still looking incredulous, but allows the other man to continue. "Have you ever heard of a town called Bremen?"

It sounds familiar, though not so much that he would be able to point it on a map correctly on the first go, or the second. The prince thinks for a long moment before shrugging a single shoulder. "Maybe. One of those places I probably heard of a long time ago, no idea where-"  
"Your position is wasted on you if you spend it sleeping instead of knowing things," Dave says flatly, and continues before he can be interrupted again. "Bremen isn't on this stretch of land; it's a town across the ocean. From what I've heard, it's much the same as what we've here, but a little hotter and the people speak a different language. Dirtier, too."  
"Not seeing how this place is special."  
"Shut up and listen. Once upon a time-"  
"Once upon a time, there was a sucky knight who told stories instead of doing important things like saving a princess from being eaten by trolls!"

Dave cannot help but sigh. His tolerance for these kinds of interruptions reached its peak the day previous, and now it is altogether too much. He cannot wait until this whole thing is done with and he is able to take a couple of days off on leave.  
"Listen, or I'm going to punch you," he says, and it does not sound like he is joking. John silences his grumbling. The tops of thatched huts and shacks are visible in the distance, and the knight watches their destination instead of continuing for a moment. As ever, he is surprised at the distance they have covered whilst arguing. The sky is becoming darker, the vivid colours of earlier fading into a much less attractive navy blue, and he estimates they will reach the finish not soon after he has finished his story.  
If the other lets him talk, that is.

"Okay, good. So- a few years ago in Bremen across the sea, there were a lot of gangs of mercenaries and other unsavoury people. Guys wanting money from anyone that crossed them, that kind of thing. There was this one group of four - called themselves the Midnight Crew, had a symbol for each member, nicknames, the whole shebang. They were pretty... well, maybe not the worst of everyone there, but definitely the most active. Yes?"  
"I think I remember them. Their symbols- a spade, a club, a diamond and... a heart, right?"  
"That's right. Just a bunch of bads doing no good. So- groups like that were banding all over Bremen, for safety, imitation, and probably other things besides. I don't know if trolls are native there like they are here, but they can be found there. Not the most common of things, but they're there. Come out at night for their business and keep their horns down as much as possible."

"Let me guess. A troll group got together and defeated the Crew?"  
"I said be quiet and let me finish. You're kind of right. Two trolls that lived in Bremen- or had just been travelling through, whatever - wanted to come here, back to the forest, and live out the rest of their days in relative peace. They enlisted the help of a local girl to get them to the docks and on a boat, promising her good money. The girl agreed-"  
"Wait, she said yes? Wasn't she scared?"  
"I... guess so? She wasn't alone. She had a great dog that travelled with her, and she had the damn thing trained to bite if people crossed her. She needed the money, so she agreed, and one night led the trolls through the city to the docks. Bremen wasn't exactly asleep: there were trolls here and there, and lots of gangs operated at night. The girl, genius that she was, accidentally took a wrong turning, and they all ended up in the Crew's hideout. They were captured, and from what I hear, not going to be let go. The Crew thought they were law-enforcers or something, and were going to torture them. But the girl-"  
"What happened?"

A story is much better told to an enraptured audience. Now the prince had finally stopped complaining, he was hooked on his friend's words, interested in the plight of the poor fellows in the tale. _It's a good thing his eyes can't go any wider, or they'd be falling out about now,_ Dave thought to himself, and held back a smirk.  
"-She turned them into animals."  
"What."  
"Yeah. She was a witch - not the greatest one, not by a very long shot - but she could do magic, and cast the first thing that came to mind. She turned herself into a cat, and the two trolls into a donkey and a chicken. They, and her big dog, all ran- managed to get out of there, and ran toward the docks as fast as they could to board the first boat that was leaving before the Crew could catch them up and kill them. The boat took them to our northern shoreline, and then they wandered until they reached- there."  
"Bullshit," John said, not following the pointed finger that lead to the much closer village.

Dave had not been expecting any other response. The prince was a fan of fantastical stories, but refused to believe them if he thought they were too unrealistic. What consisted of reality to him was anyone's guess - he was aware that trolls existed, and to a certain extent, how they lived their lives. He knew that beyond the forest and across the ocean, stranger beings that just kings and queens ruled the land. Travelling mages had passed through the kingdom before and exhibited their talents to his majesty, and still John Egbert refuses to believe tales like this one. Dave chalks it down to his being an idiot, and simply shrugs at his outburst.  
"Didn't say you had to believe me."  
"It's too convenient. Okay, so say everything you just told me is the truth. So, what, we're going to find a girl and a dog and two trolls to hunt down the princess with magic?"

"Almost. The witch doesn't live with the trolls anymore - we're just after her and her talents."  
"And how do _you_ know her?"

His question is met with a shrug and a grin, which only serves to infuriate John. They ride on together in silence - one part angry, one part smug, all of it the result of too much time together - and guide their horses off the grass toward cobblestones and flattened earth. They press on as best they can, though they can only bring the horses so far, and they dismount outside an inn. It is small and run-down, much like the entire village itself, and the owner does not look entirely trustworthy. They leave Cal and Casey with the promise that if they are missing or changed in any way upon their return, heads will roll - which cows the inn's proprietor enough that he straightens and even gives what Dave thinks is supposed to be a salute - and continue on foot.

At no point do the houses become any more spectacular. If it is possible, they appear evermore shabby, with windows shattered here and there and beggars sitting in the streets together. John keeps close to his companion, who ignores the locals, and takes them down several side-streets, away from what feels like civilisation itself. Eventually, they come face to face with a door that has more than its fair share of holes and mould; it swings open with barely any resistance. Inside, it is dark, with no candles lit, and the only window has fabric drawn across it to keep what is left of the sunlight out. Dave tuts, and his companion crowds even closer.  
"Get off-"  
"Are you sure this is the right place?"  
"Absolutely," the knight replies, and pushes John away from him. He shakes his head. "I don't believe her. Five years, and still lazier than sin itself. Ready?"  
"For what-?"

With no further instruction, Dave raises his hands and claps them together. The noise they make is harsh and loud in this small area.  
"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty," he calls out loudly to the room. "Haul your slovenly ass out of bed before I find you and tip you out of it myself."  
There is no answer. This does not deter him: Dave merely reaches out to the wall and begins to thump on it.  
"I said _up_ , Jade."

He keeps up the noise until a soft light illuminates the far corner. John strains his eyes to see what casts it, but it lights up nothing more than a small patch of air around it. It doesn't seem to belong to a candle, and he can surmise nothing about the room.  
"I thought I told you to give me at least half a day's notice if you ever came to see me," comes a girl's voice. It is sleepy and quiet and not altogether pleased.  
"Can't give you advance warnings on emergency situations. Light up the room."

The darkness is slowly chased away until all four walls can be seen. It becomes apparent very quickly that the light is no flame: it hangs in the air above the hand of the girl that has received them. John stares at the tiny sun, mouth threatening to hang open comically, until he notices that its owner is covered in nothing but bedsheets that are drooping and revealing more flesh than is proper. He quickly turns his back, clearing his throat, and from beside him there is an almost offended noise.  
"Jesus, Jade, does decency mean nothing to you?"  
"I wasn't _expecting_ anyone," she says, and sounds more than a little irritated. "If you're that bothered by a bit of skin, throw me my pants and dress, you're standing right by them."

The items are tossed over one shoulder, and both men keep their backs turned to allow her privacy as she dresses. The material rustles and the bedsprings creak before the girl announces that they can turn around again, and god! you're so damn stuck up for someone who doesn't seem to care about anything. They do turn to see her short-lived attempt to untangle a mass of long dark hair, which ends with a grunt and an unattractive face into a cracked mirror. She shrugs, turns to them and grins, before bouncing over to greet Dave with an embrace and a kiss.  
"Woah," John says, and, "Uh-" is as far as he gets before she is suddenly upon him to treat him with much the same actions. His cheeks are graced with her lips, and he shoots a look over her shoulder towards his knight, who shrugs.  
"It's nice to meet you!" the girl is saying at him, beaming all over as though she wasn't just rudely awoken. "I'm Jade, Jade Harley, best friend of Davey here. Who're you?"

Her question remains unanswered, and there is a sudden flurry of noise from the two men. "Best friend?!" the prince says, looking scandalised, while his companion claps one hand to his face. " _Stop calling me that,_ " he hisses. The girl laughs and bounces back to her bed once more to sit upon it, legs crossed, and watch them. They recover after a moment, and Dave leads introductions, looking more than just a little pained.  
"This is the crown prince of Maple Valley," he says, waving a hand at John, and then begins to gesture at Jade. She interrupts.  
"He's shorter than I thought he would be."  
"Yes, that's nice, but-"  
"Are you really sure he's the prince? I thought princes were supposed to be tall and handsome."  
"Hey," John begins, and he sounds offended.  
"My god, I am not going to have this discussion," Dave says, eyes ceiling-ward in a silent prayer for his patience. "You don't believe he's the prince, and you don't believe she's a witch. Good, neither of you believe each other exist, can we get on with it?"

There is an embarrassed silence. Dave nods. " _Thank_ you. John, this is Jade, runaway witch of Bremen. I'm sorry we dropped in uninvited," he adds to the girl, who shrugs.  
"It's okay. You said it was an emergency, and I can't very well say no. What's up?"  
"We-"  
"I have a question," John says, and the other two stare at him. "Um," he continues, nervous now he has their full attention. "Why did- why did you kiss Dave? Are you two, like, married, or-"

Jade and Dave look at each other. Her mouth twitches into a half-grin, while his spasms in distaste. John is none-the-wiser, and stands looking between the two until one decides to answer. It is Jade that does so, and it is clear as she talks that she is trying not to laugh.  
"Dave doesn't want to marry me! Says I'm too uncultured."  
"God help me for ever picking you up from those docks," Dave mutters to himself, and she bursts out into delighted peals of laughter. "You've been here at least five years and you're still jumping on people and kissing them when they probably don't want that kind of assault? How have you not been arrested yet?"  
"My natural charm helps!" she says, and winks at him, still giggling. Dave rolls his eyes and turns back to John.  
"She makes no secret that she wants in on the Strider line," he explains. "Thankfully she's no good at bewitching men, and is as she says, far too uncultured for my liking. I prefer my women that don't waste the day away snoring," he says to the room at large. "Now that's done with, can we please get down to business?"

His question is met with nods, and he begins to explain. Jade's smile disappears as she learns of what has happened, and John ignores the explanation in favour of staring around the run-down room that she occupies. He has never seen this kind of living establishment before, though he has heard of them, and is surprised that they exist in what will soon be his kingdom. _Surely no-one should be made to live in somewhere as shabby as this-_  
He is snapped back to attention by the mention of his name, and zones back out once he registers that it is simply his knight wondering aloud why he agreed to accompany "his majesty the idiot across the land", though he is not left pondering living arrangements for too long.  
"So you want to find Rose?" the witch asks, and he makes himself concentrate on what is happening in the real world once more. He nods. "And you haven't got any idea where she is?"  
"The only place she might have gone is north or east," he replies. "Well, we think so. We didn't see anyone that could have been her coming here from Lalonde's palace - at least, not that we think could have been her - and there's nothing west."  
"It's just grassy plains for days and days, right?"

John and Dave nod, and she _hmm_ s quietly to herself for a moment before wriggling off the bed and reaching underneath it. She pulls a crate out, opens it, and rummages through it for a moment while the men exchange glances.  
"Okay," she says, and pulls out a great white ball. It is too big to be held in one hand, and is entirely unremarkable. Jade's grin is the only indicator that it is special and something that they need; she resumes her position on the bed and starts talking again. "So you think that she's probably gone toward the troll forest? That's good, that's a good- okay, no, that's not really a good thing at all, trolls are for the most part untrustworthy assholes, she better have a good head on her shoulders to be able to make it through. And it's-" she pauses to glance at the window, and grimaces at its covering. "I'm going to assume it's dark now," she follows up, and returns her gaze to the ball in her lap. "Which means that they'll be awake and doing stuff now, so she's probably going to be caught in whatever it is they do- okay, okay, got it. And those two live there now, or at least I _think_ they do, they never write or anything..."

John leans over to his companion, eyes still on the girl, and whispers. "What's she going to do?"  
"Scry," is his answer, and leaves him none the wiser. he returns his gaze to Jade, who is still muttering to herself, and nods decisively. She snaps her fingers once and waves a hand over the ball; nothing happens, and she glares fiercely at it.  
Nothing happens.

Nothing continues to happen for a moment, and then the ball begins to glow, and then there are images on it, and Jade is looking intently at them. John's mouth really does fall open this time, and to his right Dave is looking impressed as well. As one person they approach quietly to peer into it as well. The images are clear, though looking at them feels strange, and the lack of sound they produce makes it seem almost unreal.

"Oh, ew," Jade says. "Spiders."

###### 

_Perhaps following the spiders was not the best idea,_ Rose thinks. She has been treading the path they swarmed along for some time now, thinking that perhas they were fleeing from some greater enemy. She places her trust in the world and its beasts when there is no-one to ask for help, and had earlier thought they would lead her to somewhere safer than following a worn path.

That had ended up not being the case. The night has worn on, and the amount of spiders only increased with the lack of light. Rose does not know where she is, and the idea of turning back does not appeal - she would lose all the progress she had made walking through the forest so far, and what if they truly were running from something bigger than themselves? She is tired, and does not want to fight anything unless she absolutely has to, and there are _too many damn spiders_. She continues on, weary and not at all pleased with her predicament, until she notices that the air too is different.

It almost feels as though it is brushing against her face, and the sensation does not leave as she continues walking. She stops, and the spiders swarm about her boots and onward, uncaring of her thoughts. It has been a while since she has taken the knitting needles from her bag: now she takes them both in one hand and reaches up cautiously. There is something spun and sticky there, and she holds back a shudder. There is more web here than she feels happy about, now she has noticed its presence, and with a horrible shock the last of her comfort leaves her. She has never minded arachnids before, but this - there are too many of them, and they are making _noise_ , a great disgusting noise that can barely be heard when they skitter about by themselves, but now they are together, it sounds hairy and disgusting and altogether gives one the image of a beast with too many legs.

She lowers her hand and transfers a needle back to it, wielding them carefully, raising them to her torso and ready to strike at anything that comes at her suddenly. She pauses for a moment, listening with her entire being, and decides that there is nothing coming at her, no rush of insects. She turns, intending to make her way from this nest of eight-legged creatures, and run as far as she possibly can, predators be damned. It is sheer force of will that keeps her mouth shut and the scream in her throat. A spider much larger than all the others has crept up behind her, and it blinks all of its eyes at her. It is _towering_ over her, and Rose knows she will never think of these beasts as interesting in the future. The less she knows of them, the better.

She grips the needles hard, and raises them just a little higher. _If I can strike the eyes,_ she thinks, and has the points face outward. She takes a deep breath.

###### 

"Holy fuck, that thing is huge," Jade says. She makes a face at the ball before glancing to her left, where John watches. His brows are knitted together and his mouth is open; he looks entirely preposterous. "John?" she says, and it seems to remind him of life itself.  
"That's Rose," he hisses. "Oh, god," he adds, and then, "That thing's going to eat her! Isn't there anything we can-"  
"Jade," Dave says, all urgency, and she needs no more prompting. She waves one hand over the ball once more, and it seems to zoom out and pan to the right. They are treated with a better view of the situation and Rose's determination, needles held aloft. Jade nods in approval, and snaps her fingers.

###### 

One of the spider's eyes seems to explode and spatters a rich blue everywhere, a generous amount staining the girl's dress and boots. Rose wastes no time staring at her needle and wondering what happened. If she has been given a magical pair of knitting needles then she will thank all the gods she can name later for their powers and good timing, but for now there are more important things to be doing. She keeps her mouth firmly closed, jabs forward with her left hand and feels something give. The spider's mandibles flail wildly and try to grasp her wrist, but she pulls free and desperately looks around. There are two ways out from this enclosed space: following the path she had been led down, or backtracking along it. She does not trust following it further, and there is a spider blocking her path.

 _MOVE_ , she thinks, and jerks her wrists upward again, keeping the points of her needles facing firmly away from her. The spider appears to flinch - or perhaps it is merely twitching in agony - and another burst of what Rose assumes is pure magical energy expels from the points of both of them. This time the thing does move: it scuttles backward, away from the pure pain that the needles have managed to produce, and Rose follows after it relentlessly. She continues to drive it back; the spider knows that the needles - perhaps Rose's hands themselves - equal pain, and it requires very little persuasion to leave her alone and scuttle backwards. Before too long, the path opens up and there is more than enough room for Rose to slip by the gargantuan arachnid; she keeps the thing at a distance from her with the threat of further blindness and remains facing the spider until she is sure that it will not come toward her again. She tenses her legs, ready to turn and sprint as fast as she can, and there is another shot from her needles. She feels it before it happens; the stick seems to vibrate in her hand and it discharges something that smells a deep, dark purple. It makes her think of death.

The spider takes a couple of dramatic steps backward and its legs give out. The body thuds against the ground. The viscous blue that Rose assumes is its blood continues to fall and splatter against the ground.

Rose turns, and runs.

###### 

The princess runs out of view of the scrying ball, and the trio sit in stunned silence in the dark. There is no need for them to exchange _wow_ s or _did you see that?!_ s when they were all privy to the girl's strong will; they are all equally amazed, and their estimations of the runaway have risen greatly. Dave thinks quietly that he will never cross the girl as long as he lives. If he thought she was terrible before by looking at her mother, he now knows that she is a much greater force than he could ever have imagined her to be. She is _terrifying_ , and he will do nothing to anger her. John can do nothing but sit with his mouth hanging open. He has never seen such a strong-willed girl before; the ones he knows would scream themselves to tears over the mere idea of a spider anywhere near them. That the one he intends to marry is able to look one much larger than herself in the eyes with nothing but determination on her own scares him. He realises now that she does not need rescuing, and is more than capable of making it through the forest by herself.

Jade is more vocal about her amazement once the initial shock passes. "She's certainly a keeper!" she says, looking up from the ball at last and grinning at the prince, who does not return the look, too busy staring at the blank ball. "Makes me wonder why you guys came to me at all. Let me guess- you didn't know that she could do any of that stuff, huh? She's definitely stronger than I think either of you gave her credit for."  
"Yeah, that's... that's," Dave starts, and shakes his head. "I guess she was in that tower for so long just- biding her time."  
"She's good," Jade nods, and this time she speaks a little slower. "But she's not unstoppable. She'd definitely be spider chow if you guys hadn't asked me to look for her. Those needles are just ordinary needles. That was my magic through them; she won't be able to do that again without me by her or looking through this at her. I'm pretty sure she'll be able to make it on her own steam for now, at least for a while - but if you want to go after her, we should leave now. I think I know where she is if she's near spiders."  
"John?"

The prince is still staring at what looks like an oversized cue ball. The image of Rose is still firmly imprinted in his mind; mouth set in a thin line, brows drawn together and movements deliberate, precise, sharp. He thinks of her running, of her wedging her knitting needles firmly in the eyes of anything that gets in her way and then continuing on. He knows that is not what will happen, and yet-  
and yet-  
"Let's go," he says. "Get your shoes and your dog and let's go and get her."  
"My dog's dead," Jade replies, but she nods, and starts to move.

###### 

Dawn rises slowly, and Rose with it. The light takes a while to reach her, filtered by the trees and the rocky mouth of the cave that she has taken shelter under. She has slept uncomfortably, waking what felt like every ten minutes, too scared to relax fully, too aware of everything that the forest might - and probably does - contain. The sun is a pleasant thing to wake to, even if she doesn't feel well-rested; she keeps her eyes shut for as long as she can and groans quietly. Wakefulness feels like a torture. The fact that she is free does little to lift her spirits.

Eventually she pushes herself to sitting. Her bag has remained on her back since she extracted her needles the night previous, and nothing is missing from her inventory. Her weapons have remained closer still all night; she has slept with them in her hands, and now there is daylight she can sit and stare at them as she wakes properly. Nothing seems different about them. Nothing feels different about _her_ ; she wonders what could possibly have caused them to jump to life at such an opportune time.

 _Maybe the fairytale gods really exist,_ she thinks. _If so, I thank whichever ones are listening._  
No matter how long she remains staring at them, the needles do not change under her scrutiny. They remain simple creating tools- ironic, now they have destroyed a beast of the forest- and she feels safe enough. The bag comes off her back, the contents checked for the hundredth time, and the needles stowed inside it once more before it is slung about her shoulders once more. A deep breath, and she will be on her way-

-or she would be, were there not a pair of eyes staring curiously at her from the entrance proper of the cave. It is another troll, another girl, and Rose feels altogether too tired to deal with errant forest-beasts. She stares back.  
"What're you doing here?" the troll asks, rolling her _r_ s. It doesn't seem intentional, and it is an innocent enough question. Rose supposes she is mostly likely trespassing on the girl's territory, and at least owes an answer.  
"I'm sorry," she begins. "I needed somewhere to stay. I can't stay awake at night like you can. I needed somewhere to sleep and this was the safest place. I'll go, I'll leave you to- to whatever."

The troll's eyes remain on her and take in her figure. They widen noticeably when she looks at Rose's clothing. The girl looks down too, and realises that she is covered in blood from the ambush.  
"How'd you get that there?" she is asked, and the troll's tone seems a little more pressing now.  
"I killed a spider," she replies. "A big one."  
A tense silence surrounds the two, before the troll girl relaxes just enough for Rose to feel comfortable. The girl glances outside at the sunshine and yawns, but does not give Rose leave; instead she sits cross-legged at the cave's mouth and draws her knees up to her chest, resting her elbows on them to play with the tips of her hair. 

"I'm surpurrised," she says. She is certainly good at rolling vowels. "I didn't think anyone would ever have the guts to kill a spider in this forest. How big was it?"  
"Bigger than us," Rose answers honestly. The girl whistles.  
"Sounds more like a lusus than a bug! Wooow, Vriska's not going to be happy."  
"You know Vriska?"  
"Who doesn't?" the troll laughs this time, and yawns again. "She's pawsitively _clawful_. I can't stand her. I'd watch out if I were you," she adds, fingers letting her hair loose to curl about one horn. "She'll probably want to kill you."  
"I can deal with it," Rose says, and finds to her surprise that she does not care as much as she ought to. She is too tired to deal with trolls right now. "May I leave, please? I have somewhere I need to be getting to, and you should- well, you probably want to sleep."

"In a minute. It's not every day that a human just wanders into these woods and then kills a blueblood's lusus! Especially not Vriska's."  
The girl's eyes are uncomfortable on Rose now, and she wants nothing more than to get up and leave, but she knows she cannot. Slight as the troll may seem, she is entirely aware it is probably misleading. Vriska too looked thin and wiry, though there was more of an insistence behind her movements that implied a great strength. Rose does not trust anything with limbs in this forest. No matter how tired the troll appears to be, she is being watched carefully, and Rose does not think that she will be able to get very far if she tries to run.  
"I understand that, but-"  
"But what?" the troll says, and what feels like exasperation fills Rose. "Anyone else would have scratched your throat open while you slept, you know. Is talking to me _really_ so much trouble?"  
"That's not what I said. I just want to get going so I can-"

The troll does not seem to care what Rose wishes to do, and jumps to her feet. It is very obvious now she is up that she is armed; what look like synthetic claws peek from under the cuffs of her oversized shirt.  
"You can just stay there!" she says, and puts her hands on her hips. Rose stays where she is and makes no effort to move. There is no point when there is an angry troll girl facing her, and besides, she still aches from a lack of decent rest. She stares up at the other girl and says nothing. "You've made me angry now," the troll points out. "I don't like being angry. You should give me something to calm me down. How about- your boots!"

Rose looks at her feet, and back up at the girl.  
"You can have them if you really want, but they're too big for me as it is, and you seem slighter than I. I'm not sure that-"  
"Shhh!"  
Rose silences again. The troll girl starts to pace up and down the cave, and she wonders how quickly she will be able to get away. Likely she would make five paces before being brought down like a playful kitten's prey. Not for the first time, Rose realises how dangerous the forest is, and that she shouldn't take its inhabitants lightly. She glances at the entrance, and then back to the girl that is prowling about.  
"If you really want them, though, then by all means-"  
"I said to be quiet!"  
It seems that talking is getting her nowhere good, at any rate. Perhaps she should change the way she speaks. But wait, something caused the troll to perk up and glance past Rose, out to the sunlight, where-

"Nepeta, what are you doing?"  
-where a hybrid of a troll is entering cautiously. It seems like it is half a horse, half a male troll, and it seems more than a little beaten up. He is reaching out to the female troll carefully. The girl - Nepeta - glances at his hands, then to Rose. The centroll follows her gaze.  
"Oh, dear," he sighs. "Nepeta, really, we have talked about your taking hostages, it is not necessary and will get you in nothing but trouble-"  
"I didn't take her! She came here by herself!" the girl retaliates, and looks annoyed. "Besides, I wasn't doing anything to her! We were just talking, and she said she would give me her shoes! Isn't that nice of her? A present for me for not killing her while she slept!"  
The centaur takes a couple more steps toward her. Nepeta seems to realise he isn't believing her story, and in an instant she becomes furious. "I won't listen to it! I won't! I want those boots and I don't care what you say!"

The centaur looks despairingly at Rose, who glances at her footwear and scrambles to take them off. The boots have served her well, and she will be sorry to see them go - she will have to buy an extra pair and have them sent across the forest back to the original owner as thanks - but if she must make a decision, she knows she would rather be without footwear. She kicks them off, away from her, and Nepeta crows in delight.  
"Now will you calm down?" the centaur asks. The girl does not answer him, too busy pouncing on the boots and pulling them on. They are much too big for her, and she wobbles as she stands, but she looks absolutely ecstatic.  
"Behold Nep in boots!" she announces, and laughs. The name is utterly ridiculous, but at least it is keeping her happy. A happy troll is one that is not trying to kill their human hostage. Rose wiggles her toes, and glances back toward the entrance. She suspects the centaur sees her looking, but she does not mind so much. He seems less excitable than the one that had discovered her.  
"Nepeta, will you let the human go now?" he asks.  
"... No. She should stay here with us. She can be our friend, Equius! Wouldn't that be great? We can- hey!"

Rose will not stand to sit around for any longer than she absolutely has to. She will not sit to be privy to the plans of a mad troll and her half horse companion; she is up and running as fast as she can out of the cave, bag still about her shoulders. It becomes obvious straight away how lucky she was to have been given shoes, oversized though they were. the bracken underfoot is softer than she thought it would be, but that does not mean it is not painful. There is gravel and small twigs here and there that she would have preferred not to be there, but she presses on. From behind her, she can hear the angry screams of the troll girl who is with any luck being held back by the centaur, and she ignores every second of them that she can hear. She runs onward and does not look back. There is yet a journey to be had.

###### 

"And what exactly are we supposed to be looking at?"

They have been incredibly cautious about entering caverns that could belong to slumbering trolls, but as of yet, they have been lucky and have come across none. Jade has led the two men through a great many trees and in so deep they would be not able to find their way out again unaided, but she seems to know where she is going, even without the aid of a map. She doesn't turn as she inspects the walls of the cavern.  
"I'm trying to find one of the trolls I travelled with a few years back. He liked to draw, so if there's anything on the walls, it's likely that he was here lately. I wish he was here, he'd be able to help us. He can fly, you know!"

The walls are bare and Dave can tell that the prince is rolling his eyes. It all seems too strange to be real, even Dave has to admit that, but he trusts Jade and her judgement, no matter how far-fetched her tales seem to be. He has known her for long enough to know that she is not a liar; she merely has an eventful life. John has not had that experience, but Dave does not think that he would be too accepting even if he believed her. He is simply not cut out to believe the fanciful. Everything will be much better when he is back in his kingdom with Rose at his side and he leaves the adventures to other people.  
"It doesn't look like he's here, Jade. What now?"

She straightens too quickly, and knocks her hat off the low ceiling. She bends to pick it up once more, and leaves it off as she thinks, chewing her lower lip thoughtfully.  
"Well... I suppose I can't really ask you two to tell me where the big-name trolls are, can I? So I don't know how safe my shortcuts are. We could walk straight into the clutches of someone absolutely crazy, or one of the ones that's in charge... that's where you'd come into play!" she announces, turning to John. "I can only hope that they wouldn't hurt a human prince. If we get captured somewhere, you're going to have to do a lot of talking to get us out and safe, you hear? Think you can do it?"  
"Where would we be going to mean that we'd be _captured_?" John repeats, and his tone is less than agreeable. Dave can't find it in himself to blame him.  
"We need to get to Karkat's cave, but that isn't anywhere near here, it's a lot deeper in the forest. He's not as flighty as the one I was hoping to introduce to you, so I doubt he'd have gotten up and moved somewhere else... I know a shortcut there that doesn't go miles around, so with any luck we should be there in a few hours! What say you, gentlemen?"

it is a testament to how little the two men know about troll culture that they readily nod. Jade, who has spent enough time with two of them to know how their blood caste works and how the chain of command is set up, knows that her shortcut is a dangerous one. She banks solely on the fact that they travel with Prince Egbert to keep them out of trouble. Did the unsuspecting have the witch's knowledge, they would have protested and demanded to take the long way.  
As a group, they set off, and travel mostly in silence. Jade pauses them every now and again to listen to the undergrowth; when she is content that no-one is following them, they press on. Dave and John do not know what to make of this, and keep as out of her way as they possibly can, though they do break the silence every now and again to remark on the past day's strange events. 

Eventually, they tire. They have pressed on through the night to reach the forest and get as deep into it as they have. They don't know how close they are to Rose, or how quickly they will be able to find Jade's elusive friends, but they do know that they are tired. Dave suggests they rest: the ground is not so littered with foliage as it has been, and the trees seem as though they have been cared for, pruned back and not as wild as everything else. The idea is most agreeable, and the group sits together at the base of one tree, shoulder to shoulder to shoulder, and do their best to sleep.

They are woken by an unfamiliar voice's command to take them away. The sudden wakefulness is disconcerting, and each contends with the trouble that is trying to do things straight after opening their eyes. They do not know how long they have been slumbering for, but their eyes feel heavy, and their movements are sluggish. Dave glances to the side and sees a figure that might as well cut the air surrounding it for all its sharp edges and an attitude that dares anything less than business to take its attention.

The trio trudges together in a line, a troll for each of them dressed in red and teal, and slowly come to their senses.  
"Shit," Jade says as something occurs to her, and receives a slap to the back of the head for her trouble.  
"Silence!" the pointed figure says. It walks alongside them, presiding over the other trolls, and does not look at them. "No words now. Wait until you are directed to speak, fleshy human."

The words do not fill them with fear, but the group understand that it is for the best that they acquiesce to orders at least for the moment. They are marched away from the clearing that they found - above them, the trees become steadily messier once again, and soon enough they find themselves standing in front of a panelled ledge bearing a symbol that means nothing to them. The figure directs them to stop, and line up in front of the podium, which they do. Their captor ascends, and they look up as one to see that it is a troll woman, tall and thin and far too bony. Even her horns are sharply pointed. She does not inspire hope within them as she lifts a small wooden hammer and raps it against the podium twice before leaning over the top to stare down at them from behind tinted red glass.

"Um," Jade begins. The figure grins. It is not a friendly gesture, and it reveals sharp teeth. Far too many, and as everything else about her, too sharp. Jade closes her mouth once again, wisely.  
"You have been found trespassing into Her Imperious Condescension's gardens, and wasting the space therein!" the troll announces. "A truly foolish mistake. It is a good thing that we discovered you before you did any other stupid thing. You are to be tried by myself in a fair court of troll law at this very moment in time. I am the Legislacerator Terezi Pyrope. State your names."  
The humans glance at each other and then back up to the troll that grins down at them. They cannot see her eyes, and she is far too pleased with their indictment for their verdict to be promising.  
"I'm John Egbert, prince of-"  
"I did not ask for your station, human John! Who is next?"  
"... Dave Strider."  
There is an even longer pause before their guide speaks. "Jade Harley." Their prosecutor makes a noise of interest, and the girl tries her best to draw in on herself.  
"I have heard of you, human Jade. You are the one that assisted two lowbloods from Bremen back to the forest?"

Jade merely nods. Terezi _hmm_ s, and moves back from the ledge a little, lacing her long fingers together and resting a pointed chin on them. "I happen to know Karkat personally," she says. "For getting him back across the sea where I can keep my tongue on him, you have my thanks. I will listen to your excuses."  
All three of them launch into an explanation at once, pause, and begin talking once more without waiting to give each other a break. Terezi watches the confusion for a moment before holding up a hand and quieting them again. She points at John, who glances at Dave, unsure of what to do under this unfamiliar pressure. Dave in turn leans back and stares long and hard at Jade, who presses her lips together.

"We're trying to find Karkat," she says after a time. Even from his position looking up at their foe, Dave can see the prosecutor's eyebrow arch. "The princess of our neighbouring kingdom is passing through the forest, and we don't really think she should be here, so we've come to take her back with us. Before she causes any more trouble."  
"Any _more_?"  
"She's killed a huge spider already," John explains quickly. "It was bigger than her - than us! - and it had blue blood and it was going to kill her, but she got it first, and then-"  
"So you see," Jade cuts in, "It's pretty important that we can get away from here so we can get her and take her back, and we're really sorry to have trespassed anywhere, really, but we need to--!"

Terezi holds her hand up once more. There is a long, drawn out silence; Dave does not think that the troll is even paying full attention to them anymore. Perhaps they have bored her, and now they are going to pay the penalty with their heads. It is not an option that makes him happy to have entered this forest. Besides him, John shuffles his weight from one foot to the next. At length, she speaks again.  
"Three trespassing humans wishing to find another human that has of her own accord entered the forest and killed what sounds like the lusus of a blueblood, and expect to get away with it with just like that. I expect one of you wishes to attempt to engage her in some kind of bizarre human matespritship ritual? That is not a strong enough defence to allow you freedom!"  
A long black tongue exits her mouth and licks her equally dark lips. The humans, as one, breathe in deeply, and worry for their immediate future.  
"Have you anything to say for yourselves? No? Then I, acting on behalf of His Honourable Tyranny, find you guil-"  
"Woah, wait!"

The troll stops talking. Her grin returns, and she bends over the podium edge again to stare down at Dave, who half-wishes that he had not spoken out.  
"Speak, human Dave," she says, and she is all challenge and pointy edges. She is much like a sword, and the opposition does not seem so strange to him as he realises this. He hates that he cannot see the eyes of the troll that is trying to have them killed. _Perhaps darkened glass is a good idea,_ he thinks.  
"I object to your... practise," he begins, entirely unsure how to behave. "You told us you would give us a fair trial, and yet all you have done is take our names and accounts that may not even be true, and then told us that you didn't want to accept it. That's... not fair. Shouldn't you be asking for more than that? -And what about our defence? I'm pretty sure that in a trial there should be someone trying to put us away and someone trying to keep us out of whatever it is you're gonna do to us. I demand the fair trial you said we'd have."

Terezi licks her lips again. Dave is pretty certain that talking out of turn like this is possibly the worst decision he has ever made in his life. Never before has he been examined quite so thoroughly, not even by the King himself- it feels rather like she is divesting him of raiment and skin alike from behind her tinted glasses, stripping him down to the very core and seeing him for all he is. He cannot quite shake the feeling, no matter how illogical it is.  
"Well, well," she says after some time. "My authority has never been challenged by a troll before, let alone by a human. Will you be able to represent yourselves? Do you know the way the law works under this canopy of trees? Do you honestly think you will be able to save yourselves with words alone here?"

The weight of her words sink into the party, who collectively shrink in on themselves. The troll remains staring at them, still grinning, and it does not seem as though they will be able to leave the forest.  
"I'm sorry," Jade whispers. "I thought we'd be able to-"  
"You have more pluck than I thought humans would have!" Terezi interrupts, and leans back once more. "For impressing me alone I shall let you go."

She waves a hand at the trolls that were acting as the humans' guard, who glance at each other and melt into the shadows of the trees noiselessly. The prosecuting troll stands and descends from the podium, a wide smile still on her face, and makes her way steadfastly toward Dave, who swears quietly.  
"You are interesting," she says, and clasps her hands in front of her. She angles her head back ever so slightly and sniffs deeply. "And incredibly brave for talking back to me like that! Perhaps you would like to join me."  
Her words are met with a flat "What." This does not seem to perturb her in the slightest.  
"With force like that, you would make a fine Legislacerator. I am of the opinion that there would be less work to do if the regular trolls knew that the law was keener than they thought it to be! What do you say, human Dave? Will you join me?"  
"No," he says before she has finished speaking. "God, no. Look- we just want to get through this garden or whatever so we can either find our friend or find this Karkat I keep hearing about. If we aren't guilty of anything then you might as well let us go on our way. We don't have time to waste hanging around here."

Terezi does not stop grinning, even in the face of blatant rudeness, and puts a hand on Dave's shoulder. He stares at it, and then stares at her again.  
"Very well," she says, and begins to walk. She is stronger than he would have thought all bones held together by skin would have been, and she guides him with her. John and Jade glance at each other and remain standing where they were, leaving the knight to be led away. He stops before he can be taken out of view of his companions, and fixes the troll with a flat look.  
"What do you want?"  
"You will not join me? If you are ashamed of agreeing in front of the other humans then you can say here, away from them. They cannot hear us talk like this."

"What are- why are you so fixed on this, all of a sudden? I already told you, we want to go."  
"It would be a strange practise indeed," Terezi says, as though she is not listening to him. "A human and a troll, working together! But it is not unheard of. The human Jade has done a similar thing in the past and you spend time with her willingly."  
"It's not- that! Not in the slightest. My allegiance has been sworn to King Egbert, _outside_ of this forest and away from all the crazy. We were serious when we said that we wanted to get on and find our runaway, so let us go."

His words are met with silence, and he glances over her shoulder back to his travelling party, who are watching the scene carefully.  
"Promise me another thing, then," the troll says, and reaches up to take her tinted glasses off. She is facing only Dave, and he is sure his face is truly comical as she reveals her eyes to him. They are entirely red, scorched and unseeing. She continues. "I do not let people simply run from the law when they deserve to be taken down by it. You will swear something to me and I will hold you to it and let you all three go."

###### 

"What do you think they're doing?" John asks. The girl by his side shrugs, and reaches up to adjust her hat. "You don't think she's going to eat him, do you? I can't just sit by and-"  
"That isn't going to happen," she cuts in. "I won't let a horned sack of pretend law gobble Dave without getting a face full of magic as well. If she's heard of me and still wants to do that then her think pan is smaller than I gave credit for."

There is really nothing John can say to such an outburst, and he keeps his mouth shut and eyes on his friend while fearing the power of infatuation. Whatever Jade feels toward the knight, he swears he will not get in the way of it. _Especially not if she's capable of turning me into a chicken or something_ , he adds to himself. There is movement ahead of them, and Dave and the troll approach them once again. Dave seems as though he has had some kind of shock, and refuses to speak. Jade looks him over once before turning on their would-be murderer.

"What did you do to him?"  
"Nothing!" comes the answer, and they are treated to a toothy grin once more. "We have simply come to an agreement."  
"What kind of agreement?"  
"One that is none of your business, witch!"

Terezi cackles. Jade looks as though she wants to curse the points out of the troll's body. Dave remains silent and stares into the distance. The troll points to the group's right.  
"Keep going that way and you will eventually come across Karkat's cavern," she says. "You cannot miss it. The noisy moron has no taste."  
John has _absolutely no idea what is going on anymore_. It is as though the forest has placed him in some kind of alternate universe and taken logic with it.  
"Please let's just go," he says desperately. Beside him, Dave nods, and reaches out to take a handful of Jade's hair, tugging at it gently.  
"Yeah," he agrees, and even his voice is distant. "We've got a job to be doing. Let's hop to it already."

They leave with Terezi calling out after them in a most unprofessional manner.  
"I will be waiting for you to return, knight!"


	3. Chapter 3

The trolls have a system. It is one that the human world does not study, or is interested in, or even knows about, but they have a system, and it works. There are a few scant individuals here and there – those who have made companionships with errant trolls that have left their forest – that know how their lives work, and they do not like the way it works, but they cannot change a thing. A couple have tried. No troll ever listens.

For the most part, they sleep during the day. Something about the sun irritates them: they do not break out in blotches or tan or burn (they look strange enough as it is without patches of colour marring their elephant-like skin), but they cannot stand it. Evolution was not kind to this poor race, who will not venture out of their forest during the day unless they absolutely have to, and hide from the light. More than one foolish young troll has lost their sight from looking upwards when it is high in the sky; the right of passage known as jackassery is not specific to humans. Those that stare at the sun deserve their injuries and the swift death that often follows.

It is at night when they truly come to life. Those that follow the diurnal system as they try to integrate themselves into human society find themselves slow and sluggish, the very air about them thick and stuffy. When the sun goes to sleep and the stars glitter high above, they become much sharper. They can see well enough in the dark, and and one that does not pay attention to its other senses after leaving wiggler-hood are not suited to living in the forest.   
Something about the night calls to them; pulls them from deep inside and refuses to let them go. A troll that sleeps when the sun is down is more likely to be discovered and killed by a hungry neighbour. A troll that dies is a weak one, and the system would not work if the weak were in charge.

It is natural to let the strongest do as they please. They do not tire as easily and are more than capable of defending themselves. They live for longer, and do as they want, wherever they want. Younger and weaker trolls keep to the farthest reaches of the forest until they are better prepared for life deep in the heart of the forest. For many, that day never comes, and they live in constant worry at the edge of their homeland, close to the sun. It is easier to survive the irritation the sunlight brings rather than risk absolute death every day, and the stronger trolls have no reason to put themselves in an area so disadvantageous for their health.

It is difficult to define what constitutes "weak" within troll society. There are things which can cripple even the mightiest: lameness, or blindness, or a natural disinclination toward violence. Those who are stupid fall into the same doomed category. Once blood is spilled, it is only a matter of time until a fight reaches its conclusion: lowbloods bow to highbloods, who rule lazily and inefficiently, and always take for granted that they have the upper hand in combat. No matter how the lower half of the spectrum despises it, they have no choice but to follow the hemospectrum. The highbloods are too comfortable in their positions and would not allow a revolt. There have been attempts in the past, all quelled without much effort.

Blood is more important than anything else in this forest. Food and water and starlight will bring one only so far; if the shade of your blood is warmer than jade then you will be looked down on. Highbloods bully those of a lower caste, who in turn force their displeasure onto the lowest of the low. It is a neverending cycle of torment and abuse, and nigh-impossible to hide.  
In the very heart of the forest dwells one who is more important than the rest: she with masses of dark hair and elegantly curved horns and bright fuchsia in her veins. She is the Condesce to the trolls and the fabled Baroness to the human world, more legend than anything else. The forest hides her and she rarely leaves her ill-deserved throne, though she has many that serve her in all walks of life. What passes for a judicial system and guard are given orders from her directly, carrying out executions here and there, and no troll that crosses her walks away unscathed. Many aspire to be part of her system, to escape an unjust death by carrying her insignia on their clothes. Many more despise her.

It is those that hate the Condesce most that live on the outskirts of the forest and keep one eye open at all times. There is no true rest for those who fear death at any given time. Persecution is a difficult thing to live with and has driven more than one troll to an exhausted, confused end. There are more lowbloods than high, but that does not mean they are in abundance. They have to survive hardest of all with whatever sludge runs through their veins. It is difficult, being the lowest of the low.

What if you aren't on the spectrum?

When what runs through your veins shouldn't exist in your species, you must find a way to exist and not exist at the same time. Trolls with this unfortunate mutation drop off the map completely – it is not a difficult thing to manage; trolls do not keep close tabs on their young and leave them in the care of great nurturing beasts. If you don't belong to any caste, you live by yourself in complete anonymity or leave the forest. It is not impossible to learn how to ignore the way the sun burns, or the way the starlight doesn't feel right when there are no leaves above your head. You might suffer living across an ocean with the worst company until neither of you can bear it any longer, and you can sink low enough to ask a human to get you back and get yourself in more danger than you could have imagined to exist. Once you're back, questionably safe and barely mollified, you can put all thoughts of courage and solidarity behind you and beg a fucking rustblood to scavenge for you. When she isn't around, you can sit in a cave ignoring the world and wondering what jerk dealt you the worst hand in this pathetic mockery known as Your Life. More importantly, you can concoct plans to get back at said jerk once it's over and done with.

Karkat Vantas has done all that and more. Had he the time and the courage and an audience, he might tell all that and more – tales of his voyage from Bremen and his part in shenanigans even earlier than that, from run-ins with the law to taking care of his old moirail. His cave affords no such luxury, however, and his days are spent with agonising slowness. There is so little to do and so much danger. He sharpens his sickles, or sits at the mouth of the cave as it grows light, watching nothing happen and waiting for –   
For what? There is nothing to wait for other than discovery. He is constantly worried that one day a highblood – and to him, that could be any caste – will find and cull him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he can hear the cackle of a Legislacerator and knows that he is safe from the long arm of what passes as justice. Pyrope is a terrifying individual, but she has kept her word for sweeps. He does not fear her – at least, not when she isn't near him.

The sun will be rising soon, which means that the rest of the forest will be crawling back to their hives to sleep or feast or whatever it is they do with company. It's been long enough that he's forgotten how groups of beings interact with each other, and not for the first time, he imagines caves with fires in them and what it must be like to share a hive with another troll that doesn't leave for days at a time. He lowers his gaze to his feet as he thinks of what it might be like to share space with another mutant-blood ( _I'd end up hating them._ ) and decides there is too much dirt beneath his four fat toenails. He reaches out to them and freezes, hand comically held in mid-air as he tries to place _what that sound is_. Aradia doesn't make that much noise when she returns from wherever she likes to stay for days on end, even when she's tired and weaving all over the place, and she sure as hell doesn't talk to herself.

There are voices. Why they're here isn't something that Karkat wants to stick around to find out; perhaps this is his end, at long last. Death has come to seek him out and will get rid of him when it's finished talking loudly. He moves back, melts into the shadows, and waits for his doom to leave.  
It doesn't.

“-all kinds of fed up looking for this stupid place. I don't even see why we have to look for him!”  
“He has a point. We could have used this time to search for Rose. Didn't you say you had an idea of her location?”  
There is a silence. Karkat strains his ears in case they are talking quieter.  
"We are wasting so much time--!"  
"Will you both get _OFF MY BACK!!_ "

This time, the silence seems to ring and echo through the clearing. The troll could swear that the squawkbeasts have taken wing and left to find a quieter place to chirp and shit. He doesn't blame them. The voice continues.  
“I already told you I don't know where he lives exactly! I've said that pretty much every cave we've come across! Do you have to keep hassling me about it!? You can either get off my back or you can stuff this stupid quest up your faux-heroic backside, _your majesty_ , and flounder here for the rest of your fucking life for all I care!"

 _Not here, not here, anywhere but fucking here,_ Karkat thinks desperately. _Do whatever quest-shoving you have to do away from me and my life and I won't get involved, I won't do a single thing, I'll go find Gamzee and convert in front of him, I'll go tell the Condesce she's a grubfucker, I'll do anything, just not here--_

"Fuck, Harley, calm down-"  
"I will not calm down! I have had abso-fucking-lutely enough of you and your ass of a friend griping every three seconds about how I'm not doing a good enough job!"  
More thrashing. It sounds very much like whoever is outside is having the shit-fit of their lives and commencing the much coveted stamping away move, complete with wildly-swinging arms and quite possibly face-pulling.  
"Jade, no-"  
"So you know what? I've had enough! You can both just suck me!"

Karkat's brain catches up at the same time Jade shrieks and is lifted much too quickly into the air, ankle first. He inches away from the wall to observe the outside of his cave, and isn't disappointed by the scene that greets him. It is none other than the infamous Harley he had been thinking of, the wannabe-witch with an unnervingly large grin, swaying in the air and looking as though she is going to throttle the next person that laughs. Judging by the looks on her companions' faces, there's a good chance she might have her hands full once she untangles herself. As much fun as it might be to watch Jade Harley go apeshit and cause more destruction than this part of the forest had ever seen, the peace wasn't something he wanted wrecked. Besides, he was getting tired. A troll can't watch when he's asleep.

"Shut your squawk-boxes before you bring the rest of the fucking forest down here," he says by way of announcement, and is surprised at how hoarse his voice his. He hasn't seen Aradia in a few days, and she wouldn't win an award for the most talkative troll, but he wouldn't have imagined that such a prolonged exposure to nothingness could make him sound so weary. He moves out of the cavern and toward the girl, who still looks brassed, and holds up one hand as the males reach for their swords as one person. "And keep your shit sheathed. I'm not in the mood to fight anyone, so just keep quiet. Jade-"  
At this she looks down at him from her uncomfortable position and seems just a little less incensed.   
"If you hadn't been so loud I would be laughing hard enough for my glutes to have detached themselves entirely from my body and crawled away to start a new, Karkat-less life at your misfortune."

"Get me the fuck down," she says, and he complies. The rope is easy enough to cut, and Jade tumbles less than gracefully to the ground. There seems to be no permanent damage done, though there's a good chance her ankle will bruise, and they return in silence to the cave, the male humans following their hobbling leader. Soon enough they are sat in the dark together, and Karkat has only a moment to try and stare at the humans before Jade huffs and summons a small ball of light. For the first time they are all able to see each other, and the troll is pleased to note that his visitors look tired and more than a little disgruntled. He hopes they are as agonised by their discomfort as he is at having been discovered.  
"Okay, so," he says, shying away from the light a little. "Do you want to explain what the fuck you're doing here?”

“I was roped into looking for someone,” Jade starts. Her tone is mostly annoyed, and her companions shift behind her. “A human princess ran into the forest, and we're trying to find her. I don't know where she went, and rather hoped you had some news. Or could help. Or something."  
"Why couldn't you ask-"  
"Not there," she interrupts. Karkat goes silent. He has seen this look on her before: she is tired and pissed off and not to be messed with. "Have you heard anything at all?"

"I'm sorry," he says, and means it. "I don't leave this part of the forest. Too dangerous. News doesn't really come here unless it's from my hivemate, and I haven't seen her in a few days. I wouldn't have known anything about humans if you hadn't stamped your way down and nearly cursed the leaves off the fucking trees themselves."  
Jade has the decency to look a little embarrassed by her outburst, but doesn't apologise. Instead she glances at her summoned light, and casts it to the back of the cave instead where it hangs from the ceiling. There is little there asides from some cloth and rocks.  
"You don't even have sopor," she says. Karkat grimaces. The other men watch on, nonplussed.

"I don't have a lot of things. There isn't much I can do about my blood, and you know it."  
"Why don't you leave again? It wasn't really so bad in Bremen-"  
"Bremen was such a fucking bad idea it isn't even true. If there was a single chance that I could go back in time and stop Bremen from ever happening, life would undoubtedly be sweet as fuck right now. Honey and miracles everywhere and a much shorter list of bad past decisions and memories. You and your dumbass human friends wouldn't be here, and I might get a better bed than cold rock."

If John and Dave were expecting their guide to continue looking downcast at the troll's bad luck, they were wrong. They could not have been more wrong. She burst into laughter, and the noise seemed to startle the cave's inhabitant. It wasn't hard to imagine these two being partners in crime.  
“You're so right! It sucked major ass, didn't it? The village I'm living in now isn't so bad, even if it's kind of run-down, the people are good, and the roof doesn't leak!"  
"You make it sound like you're living in a palace," Dave mutters, and shakes his head in disbelief. She shrugs.  
"Compared to what we had before, I kind of am! I don't think we'd be welcome back in Bremen anyway," she continues to Karkat, and they pull identical faces. "From what I've heard, Slick still wants our heads, but he's not so bothered he'll cross an ocean to get them."  
"Thank fuck for that, at least," he says, and sighs. It's long and full of built-up tension; in this light, the bags under his eyes look so deep, and it isn't hard to believe that this rock is the source of a lot of his anxiety. The humans instantly pity him.

"Okay," he says at length, and runs a hand through his hair. "So, I have no clue what happened to your flighty broad. What do you want from me?"  
"Um," Jade starts, and her next words are punctuated by a yawn. "–That was it, really. If you haven't seen Rose then there's no point in us staying any longer."  
She yawns again. “Tired?” the troll asks, and receives a shrug in response. He shifts his gaze to the other two, who have been leaning against the wall without any idea how to join the conversation. They must not be used to troll company. “Just how hard have you been pushing her? She's the laziest fuck that's ever existed, but I've never known her to yawn mid-conversation.”  
"It's been a long day," Dave replies. "We had a nap earlier in the middle of some stupid off-limits garden, I don't even _want_ to know what the fuck that was all about..."  
"Woah, what?"  
"Yeah," John pipes up. "We didn't realise where we were? Apparently it's illegal to sleep in the Condesce's gardens."  
"No _shit_ ," Karkat says, and his expression is difficult to make out. It's a cross between impressed and utterly exasperated at their stupidity. "How the hell did you get away with that? There's guards all over the place there, you should have been culled instantly-"  
"One of your friends bailed us out," and now Dave is looking less than comfortable. "Terezi says hi."

Karkat's eyes widen, and even in the dim light it's easy to tell that his skin has turned a paler shade of grey. Dave continues, unaware or maybe simply uncaring of the effect his words have had. “Actually, she's the one that pointed us in the right direction. What's her deal, anyway? Made me promise-” At that, Jade and John turn to look at him with hopeful expressions. “... Something,” he finishes lamely, and ignores the disappointed groans that follow.  
“She didn't say that she'd come here, did she?”  
“Nah. Seemed too busy making sure dumbasses don't fall asleep in stupid places and lose their heads for being tired. You know how it is.”

The familiar silence returns once more as Karkat mulls this statement over in his head, trying to find even a single way that it might not be the entire truth. Terezi is nothing if not shrewd and calculating: if there is even the slightest chance that she might arrive then he does not want to stick around. She would be disappointed, but he doesn't much fancy waiting for bluebloods to find his one safe haven.  
As he thinks, Jade continues to yawn, and it starts to spread. Karkat has never seen the tonsils of a human until this moment, and doesn't want to relive the experience anytime soon.  
“Stay here for a while. Just promise you'll be out of here before sundown and for the love of everything that's been cursed by sunlight, don't take up too much space.”

###### 

John is the first to wake, and he does so uncomfortably. The rock is hard against his back, and even though the human trio are huddled together, he's still cold. Karkat is nowhere to be seen. He yawns and rubs his eyes before pushing himself up and glancing at the other two. The light has been long extinguished, but he doesn't need to squint as he looks at them. The sun is beating down outside, chasing away the former gloom of the cavern, and it is a nice change. The darkness had been starting to make him think less than positive thoughts. Next to him, Dave's arm is around the witch, and her mouth is open even in slumber, as though she cannot believe her good luck. _I hope she dribbles on you,_ he thinks less than good-naturedly at his companion, and leaves them be.

The mouth of the cave invites a breeze, which wakes him up a little more, and he stands in silence looking out at the glade. The forest around him feels still, as though it's turned in for the night and has finally settled down, troll-lawyers and all. It's a nice thought: the last 12 hours has held far too much excitement and not enough time to take it all in. He walks to collect his thoughts further, ambling slowly and aimlessly, making sure not to stumble too far from the cave. Its mouth is neatly disguised and easy to miss if you aren't looking for it, and he isn't sure he trusts himself enough to let it out of his sight so soon. Not without company.

 _I wonder if any of this is actually real. Trolls and magic and all sorts. This is crazy._  
Karkat's cave rests at the top of a slope, and he follows the natural curve of the earth downward, glancing back over his shoulder once every now and again. The ground quickly stops feeling firm beneath his feet, and he realises he's managed to walk into a natural pool of water without noticing. He scrambles back a way and curses quietly at the wetness that's invaded his shoes. Even in a world of insanity, there are things that keep him thinking the universe hasn't been swapped out for another one without his noticing. He glances back to the pool, hoping for a brief glance of normality before he returns to the cave, and despite himself, is surprised.

On the opposite bank is the strangest sight he's ever seen, stranger by far than pointy prosecutors and girls looking into cue balls to see a different part of the land. There is a girl – half a girl – it looks like she's climbing out of something. That something looks like the skin of a goat, and the girl – the troll, it's so obvious right now that the world is crazy – has curved horns like the animal. For a moment, John wonders why anyone would want to impersonate a goat, and then the thought is lost again. She's half-turned towards him, entirely naked without her second skin, and he does his best not to look at her breasts. Her eyes are so wide, and she is so still.

“Uh,” he says, and she bolts, nearly tripping over herself in her haste. The goat skin is still clinging to her legs, and she kicks it off as quickly as she can. John rediscovers the water about his feet, and decides it isn't worth getting any more of his person wet, retreating once again. He looks up to see the naked troll running faster than he could have imagined her able to. What looks like a deflated goat remains on the other bank, and he stares for a long moment before turning and running back up the slope.

Jade and Dave are still curled around each other and asleep when he returns, but Karkat is there again. If he looked grumpy before, that was nothing compared to his expression now. John is shooshed irritably before he can even open his mouth. He ignores the action and starts to babble.  
“There was a, a, a girl, I mean, a troll. She was half a goat! Or coming out of a goat! Or something, what, what was that, I don't-”  
“Slow down,” Karkat says, looking ten times more alert. The frown that seems permanently affixed to his face deepens. “What are you talking about?”  
“I woke up and went for a quick walk, just down to that, um, pool down there, and there was a- there was a troll girl on the other side, she looked like she was climbing out of a goat-”  
“Where if she now?”  
"I don't know, she ran away when she saw me, I think she left the goat behind--"  
"Oh, you festering sack of shit," Karkat says, and jumps to his feet. He is at the cave entrance faster than John thought he could move, and still cursing. "Why the fuck would you scare her away, do you even know how fucking _long_ it's been since I've seen her and I've been worried that she might've been culled and then you turn up with your noisy mouthbreathing and absolute fucking lack of cultural sensitivity, I've been beaten up by carapaces with more sympathy than you-"

He is swearing at absolutely nothing now, tearing down the slope after the runaway. John stays where he is and can hear the splash Karkat makes when he fails to jump across the pool in one cool move. From the other end of the cave he can hear the other two waking, no doubt disturbed by the sudden increase in volume.  
 _The universe is so totally mad._

###### 

Karkat is still wet by the time he catches up to Aradia, and his cheeks are flushed from the sudden exertion. She's cowering behind a tree, half-hidden and half not, and she flinches as he approaches.  
“Hey,” he says gently, and she flinches again. “It's okay. I'm here. I'm here.”  
He inches closer with both hands held out, palms open, and she slowly turns her head to stare up at him with wide, frightened eyes. He keeps still again, movements so painfully careful, and he keeps his eyes on her face. It's easy to tell when she starts to relax – some of the tension drains from her and she looks more tired than scared. She lets him move closer without jerking away from him, and then he is near enough to place a hand on her bare shoulder. She starts again, and makes a terrified sound, and then he is holding her tightly.

Slowly, she begins to calm down, and breathe much easier. Karkat strokes her hair and holds her close until she speaks.  
“Who was that?”  
“A human who was standing at the end of the line on the day think pans were being handed out. He isn't the only one – there's three of them in the cave now. Remember I told you about Jade? She's there. They're all friends.”  
She bristles in his arms, and he shooshes her, still smoothing her hair away from her face. She relaxes again, and he lets himself be pushed away as she moves. She reaches to her ankle and holds it.  
“Why are there humans in our cave, Karkat?” she asks, and he grimaces at her tone. He hasn't heard her speak like that for a while, and it is one thing he hasn't missed about her. He might be full of bad decisions and ideas, but he's old enough to deal with his own problems and not be reprimanded on top of that by a troll who is more often than not a goat.

“They were looking for me. They needed my help, and I'm letting them sleep for a while. They'll be gone soon.”  
She nods and stays still, hands still about her ankle. He pats his own hands on hers and she lets go for him to look her over. It doesn't seem like it's swollen, and she doesn't wince as he presses down gently.  
“Tell me about humans again,” she says as he gets to his feet and extends a hand to help her up. “Do they really not have horns?”  
“See for yourself."

###### 

Dave and Jade have more than enough time to become wakeful before the trolls return to the cave, in which time they learn about the situation. She nearly hits John square in the face as she hears about the situation, held back by the knight, and now sits away from him, glaring as though her life depends on it. As entertaining as Dave thought it might have been, dealing with an injured prince wasn't something he particularly felt like doing on top of everything else, and now he acts as the cool mediator. John, for his part, ignores the daggers being shot at him, and turns to pacing up and down the length of cave. It seemed they wouldn't be leaving until Karkat returned, and he is in no doubt that he will be told off once again upon his return.

“Out of the way, nooksniffers,” he says before they see him. The humans press up against the walls and watch silently as he comes in holding the wrist of a naked girl – troll, they realise, eyes drawn to her unusual horns – who holds her head high and stares back at them. John's gaze is the first to drop out of embarrassment, and the others too turn away as she is taken to the very back of the cave to dress herself. There is silence as she clothes herself, and for all the courage she had mustered whilst being pulled in, it doesn't seem like she wants take centre stage. Karkat sighs, and leaves her to hang back in the shadows as he moves back toward the humans.

“Now she's back, I don't have to kick your asses out of this cave back to Terezi's incredibly fucking unfair jurisdiction and watch you be hanged,” he starts. John appears to sag. “I won't say it again: show some fucking courtesy when you're out of your comfort zone. You don't know what might happen.”  
“I'm sorry,” the prince mutters.  
“You're damn right you're sorry,” the troll says without looking at him. “Moving on. We're all here now. Humans, this is Aradia. Aradia, humans.”

Jade lifts a hand to wave at the new troll, who keeps silent, though her gaze is still set firmly on them. When no more conversation appears forthcoming, Karkat shrugs again and turns back to her.  
“You might be of use to them, actually. You heard anything about a human running around the forest in the last night or so?” she doesn't answer, which only makes her companion tut and roll his eyes. “Come on, Aradia, spill it. Who cares about the hornless sacks of flesh, they aren't gonna do anything-”  
He ignores Jade's quiet _hey! That was unwarranted, Karkat!_ and stares fiercly at the goat-troll. Eventually, she caves, and speaks in a much firmer voice than the humans were expecting her to.

“The human princess has gotten into all sorts of trouble," she begins, and chews at her lower lip before continuing. "She has been escorted out of the forest to the other castle."  
John and Karkat start talking at the same time. " _That's_ where you've been? Watching them again-"  
"What castle? I thought she was running away!"  
They shoot identical glares at each other while Aradia shrinks back in on herself. It is Dave who tells them to shut up, which they do only grudgingly, and wait for her to talk again. When she does, she glances at the other troll.  
"What I do when I am not here is none of your business. I'm under no obligation to tell you anything."  
"So get your moirail here and let me listen in-"  
She ignores him and turns to John. "Is it customary for humans to make such a mess wherever they go? She has taken down a lusus, and you have destroyed the peace. What about you two?” she adds, looking at Jade and Dave, who shift awkwardly and give no answer. She shrugs and continues. “There are castles on either side of these woods. One is where the human was running from. The other castle heard of her misdeeds and send emissaries to collect her before she did any more damage. Last I heard she was on her way there."

"I didn't realise there was anyone there," Karkat says, folding his arms. "Didn't it turn out to be totally unsuitable for trolls?"  
"Only during the day. It is close enough to the forest for their majesties to feel comfortable ruling there."  
There is bitterness in her tone, and it sails directly over John's head. He puffs his chest up as best he can. "I'm a prince, too! I can talk to them and get Rose back, it'll be easy-"  
"Have you ever bargained with trolls before?" Aradia asks him. He nods. Karkat scrunches his face up and interrupts.  
"Terezi caught them the other day and was somehow persuaded to let them go. Took a fancy to that one," he adds, pointing at Dave, who pointedly looks in the other direction. "She's pretty ruthless."  
"What is she?"  
"Teal."

Aradia snorts. "You barely scratched the tip of the great block of ice. You escaped the lowest of the bluebloods through luck alone. How do you expect to get away from those even higher than her?"  
Though her question is directed at the humans, it is Karkat who scrunches up his face in thought, and it is he that speaks next, still confused. “So what happened? To the castle. I could have sworn the castle was taken over by the Condesce and then abandoned?"  
“The next in line was placed in charge so the Condesce's rule would not be threatened. A sweep or two ago it was... sort of taken over by a tyrian blood. Eridan Ampora. Have you ever heard of him?”  
Karkat shakes his head, and whistles lowly. “Didn't think it was possible for them to get antsy about power.”  
“He tried to push matespritship on the empress to be, but she abdicated and fled. Now she lives in the forest just as anonymously as you do, and Eridan has control of the castle. Rose is with him now. From what I know of him, he is obsessed with displaying his power. Courting a human princess suits him."

As one person, Jade and Dave reach out to grab whatever they can reach of John and keep him quiet, three hands clapped over the prince's mouth. Even to the girl who has met him only a day previously, it is obvious that he is unable to hide his emotions easily, and any news about Rose sends him into some kind of excited frenzy. His good nature is almost sickening, she thinks, and hisses into his ear to keep his mouth shut. Karkat doesn't bother asking them what is going on; he merely shoots them a very tired look and turns back to his hivemate.  
“Is that all you know?”  
“Yes. I don't leave the forest, and you know as well as I do his overbearing majesty won't hold counsel with a rustblood.” She pauses. “But I can take them to someone that can do more.”

###### 

Here, close to the edge of the forest, the light shines through the leaves and creates sunbeams here and there. It makes for a pleasant sight and stains the world a honey-gold, all peace and restfulness. It is a world away from the dark and insanity that the trees provide cover for the further one delves into the forest, and is the stuff of stories. The ground is springy and damp, and a stream winds lazily through the trees. If one were to follow it in any direction they would come to the castle on the other side of the trees, or to the very heart of the forest itself.

It is quiet here, but that does not mean the area is deserted. Even trolls need to drink: they are not so different from the humans. Two figures by a tree trunk stir and wander towards the trickle of water. Both are tired, and their movements sluggish, and rightfully so – the sunlight is bearing down upon them, and it is hard to understand why they might be up and moving when they ought to be asleep. But here are two, with skin grey and horns as any other, and they reach the bank of the stream and sink to their knees. As one person they dip their hands in and cup the water to their faces to drink. It is blissfully, achingly cold, and they shudder as they drink.

When they bend their hands to repeat the action, two more surface from the water and grip their wrists tightly, firmly. Their fingers stay in the water, and the rushing water numbs their senses. Two elegantly curved horns break the surface, followed closely by a head which grins up at them, mouth full of teeth and horns decorated loosely with gold and broken jewellry.  
"Hello, Feferi," the two greet her, and she does not relinquish her grip on their wrists. She laughs.  
"Join me in the water," she says.  
"We can't," one replies.  
"What are you, stupid? We'd drown, not all of us have slit throats made for breathing water," says the other.  
"We would if we could, but for now this has to do."

It is a habit between the trio. When they come to visit, Feferi tries to seduce them into joining her. She knows that were they to give in, they would never want to leave. _The water is so cool all the time, and so much fun,_ she reasons. _It is a crime to have air instead of water against your skin all the time._  
They always decline, in their own ways, as one person in two bodies. They know they would drown if they joined her, and remind her every time they meet. That does not stop them wishing that they could. One tries to smile and soothe her with words, and the other spits hatred at her. She returns it all in kind, fully capable of dealing with their strangeness.  
" _Sollux_ ," she sighs, and finally lets them go. They do not pull back from the water and stay on their knees; she surges upward to press her cold lips to the kinder one's mouth first, and then greets the other in kind. "I've missed you," she mutters.

"We've missed you, too," says one, and their hands meet. He traces gentle patterns over the webs between her fingers; she grips his hand tightly and brings it to her mouth to kiss the knuckles carefully over each one. She knows how his hands taste and where every scar lies already, but that does not stop her from refreshing her memory whenever she can. "We're sorry we were gone for so long. The asshole needed us."  
The other curses. "Even being around you would have been better than serving that douche-nozzle. Fancy that, I'd rather be around the one I hate the most than near him."  
Feferi takes his hand with her spare, but does not raise it in the same manner. Instead she grips at it as tightly as she can, and he returns the action. Neither will be satisfied until the other winces, or cried out in pain. Feferi always wins. She lifts her head from the gentle head to grin, and the expression is all challenge. To his credit, Sollux does not let go. Neither do.

They would continue in this fashion forever if they could. If all the time in the world remained to them and no other walked in the forest, they would stay this way for the rest of time, with her hair ebbing in the stream's flow and their hands squeezed together until they dropped off and the water was stained a strange mix of pink and yellow. If the lord of the castle did not need attending, neither Sollux would leave the forest again. Here, away from the heart of the forest, is the best place for a lowblooded mutant to live, alone except for himself and a chance encounter. She had chosen to remain here, too, ignoring the many risks to stay as close as possible to the two trolls she cared most about. The benefits far outweigh every risk. They would have stayed forever if they had not been interrupted.

They hear the footfalls at the same time, and exchange glances for a second. Feferi lets go of both trolls' hands and sinks beneath the water again, any trace of her suddenly disappeared, and the strange double-trolls rise to their feet and turn as one person toward the source of the noise. Nothing happens for a moment, and then a group of beings – mostly hornless – emerges from the trees. One of them has curved horns, and she stops as she sees the dual trolls. The rest of the group imitates her and bumps into each other, muttering and hushing each other as best they can. It is not a graceful sight.  
“Aradia,” they greet her together, and she nods her head.  
“Sollux.”

Silence hangs between them, and the group of humans manage to sort themselves out, finally quieting for good and standing with enough space between them so as not to topple each other again. They stare between the two strange trolls, and one with messay dark hair opens his mouth to say something. He receives a punch to the arm before he can make any noise, and shuts it again. Aradia speaks in his place. “The human girl. What are Eridan's plans for her?”

Both Solluxes cast each other dark glances before they start to speak.  
“The asshole's probably wrapping her in white right now-”  
"Preparations for the ceremony are underway-"  
"I wouldn't be fucking surprised if he made her wear fake horns or something equally stupid, he's got no sense of style-"  
“Being ruled by him is bad enough, we don't want a human in charge as well-”  
Aradia nods, and they fall silent again. One is almost shaking with anger, and he turns his gaze away from her. She looks sadly upon him. "If I didn't know better, I would say you were spade-struck for him."  
"Ha!" he says, and crosses his arms. This isn't enough: apparently her words are more offensive than anyone could have anticipated, and he takes to pacing. He sits back down at the edge of the stream before he can wear his anger out by walking, and dips his fingers into the water once more. His less emotional twin takes over from the conversation, and addresses the humans.

“Please forgive us,” he starts. “He is not so easy to talk to. He's permanently caliginous.”  
“They are two people and the same troll,” Aradia adds, noting their confusion. Their expressions do not change, and she keeps talking. “One troll spit into two bodies and governed solely by our romantic quadrants. That one,” and she points at the one with his back turned to them, “Is only capable of having black romances, while this one can only pity.”

Jade is the only one who appears to understand what they are talking about, and peers interestedly between them. “What about the others-?” she asks, and is interrupted before she can finish.  
“We don't need them.”  
“We have a partner that accepts and indulges us both,” says the nicer twin. “We are hers, and she is ours, and we need no other quadrants. Only her.”  
Aradia says nothing, and Jade only needs to take a single glance at her expression to understand that their guide is absolutely, hopelessly in pity with both of them. Her own heart aches at the revelation, and she does not comment further, not wishing to make the situation any more uncomfortable.  
“What do you want?” says the twin with his back turned to them. Aradia keeps the emotion from her voice.  
“The humans want to be taken to the castle. They want to get the girl back.”

The stream gives way once more, and suddenly there is a wet-haired female troll leaning over the banks, chin on her arms and grinning widely. She looks both terrifying and beautiful at the same time, with strings of gold and colour about her horns and her neck and her wrists, and what appear to be gashes at her neck are flushed a bright fuchsia.   
“A girl in a castle? Sollux, is that where you were? Catching pink-skinned monkeys for Eridan?"  
"Shut your ignorant hole," says the cranky one. She cackles brightly, not put off at all, and ignores him. She says nothing for a moment, instead choosing to surge upward and push herself out of the steam. The humans gape as her lower half is revealed; she has a great fish-tail instead of legs, and wriggles away from the water with just a little difficulty. She glances up and winks at them as the mild-mannered twin moves to her side and bends to her.  
“Long time no see, Aradia! How are you?” her reply is a simple nod, and she almost seems to huff. Jade wants to put an arm around their guide and pat her head until the world makes everything better. “You don't have to ignore me totally, you know! Whoever heard of a hate where silence was the best path to take? Then again,” she adds, and cackles. “My black feelings are already being wasted on that loser.” 

Feferi lifts an arm to Sollux, who takes it and helps to lift her up. It's a struggle, but obviously not an uncommon one, though the humans don't entirely understand why she's being hoisted as though she might sprout legs and stand normally. Jade can't help but stare at the creature in front of them: she knows which end of the hemospectrum is which, and never thought she would be faced with the highest caste of all. It certainly shows: the gill-slits at her neck and at her waist are flushed bright pink, as is the thin skin between each of her fingers, and what might be fins at her ears, though hair covers them too well to be sure. Her tail is the same rich shade. The colour suits her.

"I'm Feferi," she says instead to the humans, who murmur their greetings back at her. She rolls her eyes. "Wow, you're all incredibly quiet! Don't be such boring bassholes, I've had nothing _but_ silence for days, I want _noise_!"  
She shakes her head and sighs loudly, and then she is grabbing something from the troll that is holding her up – a cloth, they note, and she attempts to pin it around her waist. It is a skirt, surprisingly well-made for someone that lives in the water, and the humans wonder what the point of a skirt is when she has a tail where her legs should be-  
and then they are surprised as they see the pink fade to a muted shade, and then turn grey. It happens quickly – almost too quickly to believe that this is a thing that is really happening, because where she should have a tail, she now has legs that have split apart and wobble as they try to hold her weight. She remains clutching onto her matesprit as he takes over the business of affixing her skirt.

“It's been a while since I've been out of water!” she says, and smiles. “I'm a bit wobbly on land when I don't practise walking for a while.”  
"But you're a mermaid," John says. He sounds almost offended that this strange world has yet more surprises up its sleeve. Feferi throws her head back and cackles at his tone.   
"Correct! Don't you know anything? Once we leave the water, we have no need for our tails, and they turn into land-legs."  
"It's stupid. You should stay in the water where I don't have to be around you all the time," says the still-sulking Sollux from behind her, and she speaks to him without turning.  
"Your _face_ is what's stupid! If you don't like it, then take a long walk off a short pier. Now," she says, addressing the humans once again. She grins proudly at them, and loosens her grip on the one holding her. They avert their gazes as her breasts wobble and she grabs back at them. "You're saying you want to go and see Eridan? You actually want to _see_ that pompous, desperate fucker?"

They aren't surprised at her words. Aradia had explained further as they had left Karkat behind. _She stays here so as not to face the shame,_ she had informed them. _The Condesce is the only other troll that has that shade of blood, and she doesn't want Feferi around in case she attempts to seize power. She faces unwanted red romance if she returns to the castle, and a culling if she returns to her hive._   
With this in mind, John steps forward only a little nervously. She grins at him again, thought the expression isn't exactly friendly. She is showing far too many teeth.  
"We have to get Rose back," he says simply. "If this Eridan is as bad as everyone makes him out to be then I don't want Rose to be in his hands. _I'm_ the one that's supposed to marry her, not some troll from a weird forest! I just want to get her and go home and be happy."

Feferi inspects John like he's a questionable morsel and she can't make her mind up whether she should put him in her mouth and chew or not. She narrows her eyes and actually leans forward to better take him in. To his credit, he doesn't lean back or shy away from the gaze. He straightens his shoulders and stares back and actually looks like the royalty he's been claiming to be for so long. Her grin fades fades the smallest amount at his courage, and she is all seriousness now.  
“What are you to her?” she asks, and lets go of Sollux as she does so. They are in their own world now, of human-troll politics. It is a world only leaders are meant to be a part of. “Surely a matesprit with feelings as strong as yours wouldn't let his partner be stolen away.”

"A matesprit is the closest thing we have to a human lover,” Jade explains quietly. “You pity someone, you're having feelings for them.” John nods to show he's understood, and bites his lip as he thinks for the briefest of moments.  
“I guess we aren't that. I've only met Rose a couple of times, and it was a really long time ago. She was nice! I just wanted to rescue her from living in a tower and let her be happy with me. It was – it's just what I've always thought I had to do. My father always says I have to marry a princess, and Rose is the best one I've ever met." He pauses and a crease appears in his brow. "I'm just doing what I think is right. I'm not in love with her. But I do want to help her."

The mer-troll listens without interruption, and nods as he finishes. She turns her gaze to Dave, who also straightens his back. Something about her presence is certainly very leaderly. “And why have you come with him?”  
"John's my closest friend. Orders haven't got anything to do with this. I'm with him now because I want to be with him and help. Besides, if this Eri-whatever's as much of a shitstain as everyone makes him out to be, then Rose is better off being rescued."  
“Yeah!” Jade adds, stealing the troll's attention. She shrinks back only a little after realising her outburst, and then shrugs. “If Dave's helping, then I guess I am too. All for one and one for all, friendship is the strongest bond, all of that crap! I can't get out of it now, so I might as well do what I can.”

All eyes are on Feferi as she takes the opportunity to pace slowly, arms folded and one finger tapping against her chin as she thinks. The other Sollux stops sulking and stands as well, still at a distance from everyone, and watches quietly. She begins to nod as she walks, each pace becoming stronger, and stops altogether after the fourth repetition.  
“Okay,” she says simply. "I'll help! Your reasons for helping kind of suck, but that's just a human thing, I guess! I'll take you to the castle.”  
“Fef,” both Solluxes say. She ignores them.  
“It'll be fun! I've never spent time with humans before. Will you be joining us, Aradia?”

The troll shakes her head and keeps her mouth shut. There is something in the mer-troll's tone that brooks a challenge, and she is smiling as she speaks; it only grows wider at Aradia's refusal. Although her offer is kind-hearted enough, Jade cannot help but feel there is something not quite right about the heir to the forest's throne. One of the twins frowns.  
“You can't.”  
“And why not?” Feferi doesn't sound pleased at being told _no_ ; likely she hasn't heard it too many times.  
“It's daytime. You'll burn to death. What if Eridan catches you prowling about? If you never come back-”  
“I'll come back,” she says, and that seems to be the end of the discussion. She leans forward and peppers his face with small kisses, which seems to distract him enough to shut him up. Aradia looks away. The mer-troll's kismesis approaches and wraps a hand about one of her horns; she is pulled away and snarls, and then they are kissing, open-mouthed and not bothering to be gentle. The humans watch, amazed at this display of troll romance, and almost miss Aradia's departure.

“Thanks,” Dave mutters to her as she attempts to pass, and their attention is drawn once again. Jade smiles and nods, and John looks sheepish.  
“I'm sorry for startling you,” he says, and is rewarded with a smile.  
“I will tell Karkat that you are going to raise hell. He will like that. Goodbye, humans.”

She wishes Feferi and both Solluxes a pleasant day and retreats, becoming part of the forest quicker than the humans could have thought – she is out of view too quickly, and they stare at the spot that she disappeared from. The sunlight is still soft and gentle, and the day feels as though it is a dream.  
“Come on, then,” Feferi says. “Sollux will walk with us until we leave the forest. Can any of you swim?”


	4. Chapter 4

One might think the castle situated on the wrong side of the forest away from human society to be shabby and falling into disrepair if it were truly real. For the most part, it is a thing of legend and tales, and no-one really takes it seriously. Mothers tell their children to behave or they'll be sent to the castle that sits past the troll's domain. No human child wants to be given away for fear of eating, and they grow up wondering if this mythical place exists.

It is indeed a real place, and though it has been for the most part abandoned, it has by no means become decrepit. For the most part, the rooms are simply hidden under a fine layer of dust. Here and there, objects have rotted a little – wood has splintered and were the walls not stone, mould would surely be growing on them – but the damage is nothing that cannot be fixed. It is not like the effects of time has spread through the entire castle, either. Rose is quickly discovering that the further she wanders from the throne room, the shabbier the place becomes. She cuts a path now through the dust and passes through as many rooms as she can bear, and thinks that if the prince she had greeted earlier was so inclined, the palace could become inhabitable again. There is no cause to live in unnecessary squalor.

She casts her mind back to their meeting as she does her best to map out the castle. The two identical trolls had marched her into the throne room and set her down without ceremony, and from atop the golden chair Eridan had given her a haughty once-over. Rose had returned the look with her chin held high and mustered enough hate that she could have vaporized him immediately were looks able to kill. He had seemed only bored, and waved her away.

Not arguing was probably the best idea she could have had: she is given freedom enough to wander where she wishes, as long as she does not leave, and she is able to make it to the other side of the castle, away from the clinical atmosphere of the cared-for wings. She is not alone – a troll trails miserably behind her. Rose has ignored his few attempts to speak to her before and he has lapsed since into silence, leaving her to think as she wanders aimlessly. There is no course that she wishes to follow, and she has long given up on mapping the area out in her mind.

No matter how she looks at the situation, she cannot think of a plan that will work in her favour. She has no shoes, and no food, and no idea where might be safe. The forest did not scare her, but she thinks it a much better idea to stay away from it as long as she can help it, knowing that she will almost certainly cause offence wherever she treads. Earlier she had made a beeline to the nearest window and peered out of it interestedly – evening would soon approach, but the sun had hung high enough to illuminate the land outside, and she had been sorely disappointed with the view. Asides from the thick ring of trees, there was nothingness. Seemingly endless fields with no huts or buildings anywhere in sight.

She supposes there must be other villages somewhere now that she has come this far – she has seen maps and vaguely remembers the land extends by five days' nonstop riding before the shore can be met, but can think of nothing else. Maps at her mother's castle were not freely given to her, and despite how hard she thinks, she can bring no details to mind. It is entirely infuriating, and she grinds her teeth as she walks.

There is only one door in the room she has walked into. Rose throws it open to reveal a closet, and turns to retrace her steps. She catches sight of the large-horned troll that has been trailing behind her, and for the first time notes how pathetic he truly looks. She cannot blame him. Taking orders was not something she was good at, and she was fully aware that she could be a difficult person to wait on. If she belonged to a blood-caste and was made to follow behind a sullen person of much higher status than herself, she would feel every bit as exasperated as this one surely is. 

He does, however, perk up as she turns back to him and their eyes meet. “Um.” Rose ignores him, and starts walking again, following the path she made in the dust only seconds before. He tries again, valiantly. “Um. Miss?”  
She doesn't look at him as she answers. “Shouldn't you be calling me _your highness?_ ”

Were she crueller, she might have taken pleasure in the way he sputters and seems to try and rewind time to correct himself. She keeps walking, and knows that he follows still by the way his volume does not decrease. An image of her mother flashes unbidden into her mind, ignoring the aides that try to tell her where she ought to be and what she should be doing. Rose halts, and feels a little ill as she realises that there is a _very good chance_ she is becoming one of the people she despises most.  
There is a window in the room she has backtracked to. The world outside is becoming darker, and she resists the urge to ignore him to stare at the nothing that is out there.

“Of course! Oh- please, uh, forgive me, your highness! If I could have your attention, I, uh-”  
He has been trying to tell her something for a while now, she realises. At least, he had been before she had ignored him entirely and he had understood that she would not respond no matter how he attempted to bribe her attention with honeyed words. Rose suspects it has something to do with what she has affectionately taken to calling the End Of Days in her own mind. She has no intention of even pretending to be happy about her predicament.

There is no human that could be happy with this situation. Who wants to plan an elaborate escape and succeed only to run blindly into what could very well be an even worse position? At least back in the kingdom she was familiar with she was fed every day and though kept in isolation, she had more than many peasants had. If freedom entails marrying a troll, then perhaps she would be better without it. Rose does not want to marry, period – she has spent too much time alone and become accustomed to her own company to want to be bound to someone else for eternity. Now she has taken her freedom back, she does not want to confine herself to a throne by the side of a troll or a human and _rule_.

She also highly doubts that there exists a suitor that would accept her strange thoughts and desire to be independent.

There is a sneaking suspicion in her gut that whatever the aide is trying to get her to do will happen whether she likes it or not, but she quite simply does not want to be pleasant. If sulking and being a dead weight is the best she can do at obstructing the proceedings, then she will damn well do it to the best of her abilities.  
The troll is still trying to speak, and tripping all over his words. She turns back to him, and sounds more irritated than she means to. For all her negativity, she does not wish to be mean to those who do not deserve it. “What.”  
“If you've finished, uh, exploring the castle,” he says, and swallows. Rose says nothing and waits for him to continue. “I'm pretty sure you're supposed to be trying your ceremony gown on now, so, uh,”

Despite the way she has treated him, he is still doing his best to be pleasant and well-tempered toward her. She feels a short pang of sympathy for him, and quickly banishes the feeling. She folds her arms and looks him dead in the unfamiliar yellow sclera.  
“I don't want to wear a dress that doesn't belong to me. I have to wonder why the lord of the castle owns a-”  
“It belonged to, um, sorry,” the page interrupts, and has the decency to look guilty as Rose raises an eyebrow at him. She lifts the other one, and he continues. “The troll that was going to be his post-ceremony matesprit. He keeps it in memory of her.”  
“What happened to her?”

The servant mutters something that she can't quite make out, though she thinks it sounds like _she ran away_. Amusement bubbles up inside her, and she has to wonder where these strange emotions are coming from. The disinterest her new captor had shown her only a couple of hours previously suddenly makes sense: nothing is quite like a lost love, or so Rose has read. She can at least be thankful that he does not hold attraction toward her to obsess over her, and she thinks that if things have stopped going her way at long last and she is forced into this marriage, she can at least get him to hate her. The romantic quadrants were something she still puzzled over, but she has enough quietly smouldering hatred inside her that would probably work in such a situation.

“But, um,” the troll says, and she pulls her head out of the clouds. “Even if you don't want to wear it, we'll both get in trouble if you don't at least make sure it fits. So please-”  
“I understand,” she sighs, suddenly weary. It has been a long day, and she is still tired tired from her fitful sleep in the cave. Now she is walking on cool stone instead of a carpet of broken sticks, she realises her feet rather sting, and above all she is irritated at having been caught again. “Let's get this over with, then.”

The troll leads her away from the dusty wings of the castle to a well-lit hall with a ceiling so high she has to crane her head back to look at it. Rose decides instantly after seeing the garish mural on the ceiling that she prefers the silent and weathered rooms where she can do as she pleases without judgement. She has no mind to put on airs for the troll prince who is already here, and remains silent as she is directed to stand in front of a full-length mirror. Beside it, a white dress sits on its mannequin. She thinks she can feel it mocking her.  
 _It was easy for you,_ Rose thinks bitterly. _You at least had your forest to run to. What have I to return to? My mother? The next kingdom that sympathizes with her? And what great ideas those are-_

“What,” she snaps. The troll attending her – the only troll that seems to be able to attend anyone now the strange twin trolls have left the castle. It is an empty building, she realises belatedly, and wonders how long Eridan has been alone for – jumps out of surprise. The tip of one of his long horns snags on her skirts, which are lifted almost comically, and her thighs are exposed to the room. He sputters and tries to correct his mistake: this results in the material becoming torn, and his horn is extracted with a great many apologies. Rose says nothing and keeps her cold gaze trained on the prince, who has been watching her without comment since she entered.

His chin rests on one hand as though he is bored, but from here she can see his eyes and knows he is anything but. Only a monarch comfortable with their power would allow themselves to be seen slumping in such a manner. She has no doubts that his posture is perfect when he stands, but here he has taken a seat and crossed his legs to watch her be presented with her wedding dress. He has not said a single word – no greeting, no retaliation to her outburst – and simply continues to stare. Rose directs her gaze to the troll crouched in front of her, who does his best at pretending to be invisible and fails.

"Do I not get any privacy while I change?"  
The troll hesitates, glancing between the two that outrank him. His eyes flicker back to Rose's legs once more, and his cheeks burn brown. The princess is honestly surprised: she has no idea whether modesty is a thing that can be saved or not in the company of fairytale creatures (but then, they too wear clothes, and she thinks maybe she should not be surprised), but it seems the prince himself does not care for such niceties.  
"An' tell me why I should afford you privacy."

His accent is nothing like anything she has heard before. She can remember when she was young and still able to explore her mother's castle: guardsmen from all over the country would visit and speak with her, and she remembers the way their stress lay different over certain words, but it was entirely different. The trolls she has encountered in the forest too spoke strangely – some brash, some with emphasis where it ought not to exist, and others still with voices roughed by smoke – but this is one that requires her concentration to understand. She frowns as she answers.

"I was under the impression that ladies should not be seen in their delicacies unless by their husbands or servants.”  
"We'll be wed soon enough. Or is that not strong enough reasonin' for you humans?"  
"It's rude."  
"I don't care too much for bein' nice."  
" _I don't want you staring at me,_ " Rose hisses, and she hates the smirk that spreads across his face. It's like he thinks he's won some great battle by overstepping boundaries and making her feel uncomfortable. He takes the glare she shoots his way without his expression wilting, and their attendant still looks between them, entirely unsure as to what to do.

Rose is only able to take so much of this silent war between them before injustice gives way to burning anger, and she pulls the dress over her head in one fluid motion. The clothing is far dirtier than any princess' garment ought to be: covering it in dirt and sleeping rough has done wonders to it, and she is sure she could pass for a regular commoner were she still wearing it and back amongst human company. She glances at the mirror, and is only moderately surprised to see herself looking more elegant without it. Her face is dirty and her hair askew, and she knows that the soles of her feet are blacker than her mother's heart, but underneath the grime she can still recognize the her that is haughty royalty.

"Take that off as well," Eridan says. She looks down at herself, and then back at him. This time, her expression is indignant.  
" _That_ is what we call a basque, and I will not relinquish it."  
"You're wearin' clothes under your clothes. It's ridiculous. You're not gonna fit in the dress if you don't take 'em off, you'll be all lumpy or somethin'."  
Rose can think of more than a few arguments to prove him wrong, and knows that it is pointless bringing them to light. He will ignore every well-made point she thinks up, and it will infuriate her. She crosses her arms over her covered breasts and thinks that she could very well learn to hate him. "I will not take my undergarments off."

The troll prince shrugs and decides to leave the subject alone. The fitting continues without any further trouble – Rose shoos the aide before his horns cause any further destruction, wipes her nose on her wrist and dons the white dress. She hates it instantly. It pinches a little too tight at her hips and has no sleeves and is so shockingly clean that she almost can't look at the reflection of her own face. She turns once and waits for Eridan's critical _yeah, whatever_ before shucking it.

Discomfort grows in her stomach the entire while she is in the hall, and once she has been given clothes once more – not hers, but plain and clean, and for that at least she is thankful – she is allowed to leave, and is escorted upstairs to a well-kept room she she is told can be considered hers. She feels closer to being entirely miserable than she has in years.

Her knit bag has accompanied her through castle, and she lets it rest on her lap as she sits on the foot of the bed. There is a wind outside that moans against the stone, and though the attendant has not left, she feels very alone. It has been hours since she was last in the company of only herself, and she cannot bring herself to tell him to go away.  
“Is there anything you'd like?”  
It takes her a moment to realise that he spoke. _I want to leave,_ rises to her mouth, but she swallows and forces the idea to dissipate. She is not being offered a chance to escape, no matter how much she might wish for it. She looks at him, and notes that he seems concerned. A troll, worried over a human's emotions. _How funny,_ she thinks, and has never felt less amused in her life.

She settles for an eloquent “Huh?” as an answer.  
“I thought maybe you'd like a hot drink or something. I know humans like really, uh, weird things for comfort, so...”  
Rose holds back the sigh she wishes so dearly to release, and twists her fingers in the knitwork that sits in her lap. The loops are close together, but it takes little effort to open holes big enough for her fingers to fit through. She can feel that her things are still in there, still intact: bottle, needles, clothes. All accounted for. A little of the weight on her shoulders lifts. She has so little to call her own now that losing any of these items feels like it would be the weightiest sin one could commit.

“I didn't know trolls knew what humans liked,” she says absently. Her gaze moves slowly around the room, looking for nothing in particular. There is no reason to look toward the window anymore when freedom is something that eludes her completely – she has been teased horribly with the previous day's excitement, and she does not want to think about escape any longer when it will lead her only to ruin. She takes no comfort in knowing that tonight she can sleep safely.

“Oh, they don't!” the aide chirps, and he sounds much more confident now her brusque demeanour has vanished. “But I spent time with them – well, okay, just with one – a couple of sweeps ago, so I guess I kind of know what they like? Or, uh, what they don't like, at least. I'm still not really over the idea that the sun can be a nice thing.”  
“You said your name was Tavros, correct?”

She invites the troll to sit with her. He declines at first and remains hovering in the doorway, but soon sits cross-legged on the floor, and they discuss many things as the sun sinks ever lower beneath the horizon. Rose is treated to tales from Bremen-across-the-sea and silently marvels at the idea that a troll so spineless in the face of her glare could have left the forest and attempt to integrate into human society. 

The idea of the foreign village seduces her attention: the idea of complete anonymity is a wonderful thing to imagine. She interrupts his description of the great dog he'd travelled with to begin to ask more about its behaviour, and then chaos breaks loose from the floor beneath theirs.

###### 

It is less difficult to enter the castle than those outside it believe. There are no guards posted at any entry point – this becomes much more obvious once one has traversed its insides, but for those attempting to storm it, caution is of the utmost importance. The trio has sat in the bushes for long enough trying to work out whether the archway they could see was truly unmanned. It had grown dark around them as they had watched, and they would likely have sat there for much longer if John had not proclaimed in a most gentlemanly manner that he could no longer feel his ass.

Neither of his companions felt it was proper to attempt to talk him out of the idea; they were equally uncomfortable and while heroic entries weren't something they were particularly inclined to do, they all agreed that the quicker they got to Rose, the better. Their guide had long since left them, complaining about how boring it was to simply sit and think. All of them agreed with her now and wished they hadn't spent so much time waiting for something to happen.

They had approached the castle walls slowly and entered with baited breath, and when nothing had happened, hurried in. There are no signs of life anywhere, but this does nothing to lift the tension from their shoulders. The troll prince could very well have told his men to hide and ambush them.  
“Be careful,” Jade whispers as they inch forward. The men have their swords drawn and the witch is squashed between them trying to look in all directions at once as they shuffle into a large corridor. They make it fifty-seven paces away from the entry point before John trips over his own feet and curses loudly.

The noise bounces off the walls and they all stop moving, stop breathing, waiting for their demise to come down hard and heavy upon them. Nothing happens, and the echo fades. It becomes very apparent that there is no-one else asides from themselves here. The prince looks back at his comrades sheepishly and quirks one eyebrow in silent question. _Where is everyone?_ They shrug and shake their heads in reply, and help him up. “I thought I said to be careful!” the witch says, louder this time, and still no guards come to apprehend them.

They continue down the passage without further ado, and everything remains lifeless and imposing around them. The floors are covered with a fine layer of dust, the ceilings are high above their heads, and everything is dark. There are neither candles nor torches to light the way, and though Jade protests the idea at first, she is badgered into summoning her tiny sun. It casts long shadows everywhere and does nothing to make the situation feel right: it is as though someone has taken the livelihood out of life itself and placed the trio in the midst of the unfriendly remains.

At the end of the corridor, great unwelcoming doors loom, and they approach with guards lowered until Dave tells them to shut up and listen. They do so, and it becomes immediately obvious that there are people on the other side. The corridor they stand in might be silent, but the vacuum of noise does not extend across the entire building. As one they rush to the doors and press up against them, desperate to hear what's going on.

" _How fucking dare you_ –"

Cursing is punctuated by the clash of metal, which the men recognise as two swords. Dave touches Jade's elbow and draws her away, tells her to stay behind them and prepare herself for fighting. She starts to complain – she thinks she is capable of fighting alongside them, not just offering whatever magics she can remember to help – but is met with the shaking of two heads.  
“You don't have a sword, and if you get hurt, we won't be able to help you out quick enough. You need to take care of yourself and look for Rose if you can,” she is told, and she nods. The men readjust the grips on their weapons.

“How dare _I_?! You were the one that ran away, you connivin' fuckin' wench! An' now you show your face back here-"  
" _Get out of my way and let me have at that girl!_ "

John and Dave take a hold of doors and pull them open together. They swing open impressively to reveal a great hall lit brightly with torches. The humans are bathed in the light, absolutely stunned as they take in the scene: two trolls with swords drawn and pointed at one another, breathing heavily. Against the far wall is a tall mirror and at one end there is a grand staircase leading up. It is a strange place to host a fight, John thinks, and then they are under the wild scrutiny of the trolls. 

One fits the description of the prince they've heard of. He reminds them of Feferi with a single glance: he has the same strange aural frills, though his are flushed violet, and he is clad in finery. There is no doubt that he holds a high status as the mer-troll had before him, though he does not need to string gold between his horns to display it. Facing him is a wild-haired, snarling female. Half of her face is covered with a black rag and her horns are asymmetrical. She seems to be the complete opposite of her opponent. As they look, her tongue darts out and runs over her lower lip.

“Didn't think you'd need people to help find your battles, Vris,” the prince says in the strangest accent the humans have ever heard. Just like that, the fighting trolls' gazes are locked fiercely again. She sneers back at him, and the expression twists her face unattractively.  
“If you think I'd sink to asking humans to fight with me, you're way fucking mistaken! I'm here to _kill_ one, why would I ask for their help?” She's spitting as she speaks, and breathes in quickly to cut Eridan off before he can answer her question. “And I _know_ you've got her here somewhere, the whole fucking forest is talking about it. Dumbass prince Ampora, fallen so far to marry something with dirtier blood than a _mutant_!”  
“You an' me aren't together anymore! I don't see what any of this has to do with you!”

Vriska doesn't lower her sword, but her head is tossed backwards as she laughs. It's a horrifying sound, grating and entirely maniacal, and it echoes around the hall. She doesn't wait until the sound fades to speak again, and she sounds even more deranged than she did before. “Has living in this stupid big dumb hive deafened you? Do you not listen to news anymore?! The girl you're harbouring has started so much shit throughout the entire forest! She's the one we're all talking about! She-” she pauses to take a deep, shuddering breath, and shrieks so hard that the humans' heads ring. “ _SHE KILLED MY LUSUS!_ "

A very long moment passes. Vriska is breathing heavily, the hand not wrapped around her weapon's hilt clenching and unclenching, and she lowers her rapier in an attempt to try and regain some semblance of sanity. Eridan's brows knit together and he too lowers his weapon. It is painfully obvious that she has not come to the castle to seek him out. They seem to have forgotten that there are three stunned humans standing in the doorway and would likely have continued to ignore them had Tavros not tripped on a step as he attempted to scale the staircase silently. He falls noisily and rolls all the way to the bottom. The crazed half-blind troll does not hesitate as she notices him: Eridan is shoved unceremoniously out of the way and she reaches the bottom step as the fallen troll slows there. One fat-toed foot is placed on his chest.

" _Where is she_ ," she hisses. Tavros blinks himself back to alertness, stunned by the impact of horns against stone, and sets his mouth in a determined line. It's a bad decision on his part: Vriska replaces her foot with the point of her sword and makes a show of wrapping her fingers around the hilt. "Three," she says. "Two."

"I'm right here."

Rose descends slowly, one hand resting elegantly on the banister. She looks less pale by torchlight than veiled starlight, her expression unreadable and not a hair out of place. She makes a fine contrast to the one that has been hunting her down, who pulls back her lip to sneer and reveal sharp teeth, who has torn clothes and tangled hair. Rose stops before she reaches the bottom, several heads higher than the one she has offended so, and waits to be addressed.

" _You,_ " Vriska starts, and there is more emotion in that single word than one might think possible.  
"Me," Rose replies calmly. "You've come for revenge, I presume. Let Tavros up. He hasn't wronged you."

Everyone else watches with baited breath to see what Vriska does. Her gaze switches between her foe and the unfortunate prey beneath her blade, and the effort she puts into not skewering the fallen boy is obvious to all. Her fingers actually twitch, and for a moment Rose thinks she won't listen, but then the blade is lifted. Tavros scrambles to his feet; he casts one terrified look at Rose, who does not meet it, and runs.

“Woah, woah!” Jade says, and claps a hand over her mouth. She lifts her other one to half-beckon him over, and his eyes grow wide as he notices her. John throws his arm out to stop Jade from pushing past to go to her friend's side. His eyes are transfixed on the staircase, and the troll that had fallen dithers in the middle of the hall, unsure whether to stay where he is or to go to his old companion's side.

The females stare at each other without moving a single muscle. Their audience thinks perhaps they are trying to formulate some kind of battle strategy without knowing how the other fights – Vriska is clearly armed, but Rose has taken down a great spider and her foe does not know how. There is a good chance what will happen will not be fair: it is the humans that know how weak she is in this moment, and that illusion will be shattered the moment they start fighting. There is an orange cloak that must be Vriska's pooled on the far side of the hall by identical doors to the ones that Dave, John and Jade stand by. Without it, she is clearly lean and well-muscled.

And then suddenly the moment for calm is lost. The female troll's sword is lifted and swung with a wordless yell, the arc missing Rose by inches as she stumbles back to avoid it. Such a passionate swing leaves Vriska off-balance, and the princess wastes no time in jumping the last few stairs and running as hard as she can, making her way toward the humans that have come for her. She does not recognise them at a glance, but they are not grey-skinned, and she is more thankful for that than she thought could ever be possible. 

The troll flies after her, and doesn't stop as John and Dave step forward to meet her, swords held high. Metal greets metal with a shockingly loud noise, and Rose is safe behind them for the moment. She glances back, composure broken, and looks honestly scared. The troll looks so angry she might very well explode on the spot.

“ _Move!_ ” she yells, and pulls back to swing heavily again. John takes the blow, and his knight can see the way his arm vibrates trying to keep his weapon steady. It is clear that Vriska is not lacking in strength.  
“You'll have to go through us to get her-” the prince retorts, and deflects her next blow just as cleanly. Dave would roll his eyes if he had not stepped forward to parry – neither of them want to particularly hurt the troll, no matter how bent on killing the princess she seems to be. They are not so bad they would stoop to thinking of death as a punishment before anything else.

Behind him, Jade squeaks something, and he can't spare his eyes for her because John can't possibly hope to fight this crazed troll all by himself. He needs to be at his friendleader's side, can't let Vriska through or she'll get Rose and eat her heart, and-  
“Dave!”  
He turns, and Jade is standing by herself. She's pointing, and he follows the direction, and feels the blood pulse loudly in his ears as Eridan tugs the princess's wrist hard enough for her to stumble and curse. He steps forward after a quick glance behind him. John is holding up well enough.  
“Let her go.”

Eridan doesn't hesitate to lift his sword again and aims it at Dave, who prepares himself to take another powerful blow. Rose scowls as she regains her balance and attempts to pull herself free fruitlessly. It takes a moment for her to realise she won't be able to escape by doing that, and aims a kick at his shin instead. He only just manages to sidestep it, and she curses him fluidly enough that Dave's eyebrows raise.  
“No way fer royalty to speak,” Eridan says, and shoves her. She trips, but the knight cannot spare a moment to help her, suddenly preoccupied with the blade being thrust at him.

The troll prince is good at fighting for someone who has spent the better part of the last few years sitting in a castle moping over his runaway matesprit. He moves quickly and strikes sharply, and when Jade makes another noise behind him, he spares no thought for her, too intent on keeping the metal point away from his flesh.

The witch does, however, noticed what those fighting do not, and can't help the sound that escapes her. The far doors are open as the ones the humans entered through, and by the flickering shadows she can see the spiders that spill into the hall. They must have been making their way toward the battleground for some time: she has only now noticed them, and the doors aren't exactly close. She glances at Vriska, who pays no need to the arachnids and easily blocks an overhead strike from John, and then back at the things skittering across the floor. Disgust ripples through her and she turns back to the vermin, raising her hands with palms open, and imagines a world where spiders do not exist.

The sudden burst of flame surprises everyone, and their movements cease instantly. All eyes are on Jade as she lets her hand fall back to her side, and she feels rather pleased with herself until she notices the attention.  
“Um,” she says by way of explanation. “Spiders.”  
One or two pairs of eyes look away from her to the shadows skittering across the floor, and then all eyes are on Vriska as she makes a noise that reminds the humans of an angry cat. She swings so suddenly that John has to dive out of the way to avoid it, and charges at Jade, who has no sword to protect herself. The witch doesn't look like she cares as she closes her eyes, and Dave makes a strangled noise as Vriska bears down upon her, swings, and-

misses. The torches flicker. John gets back on his feet, and Jade is at his side to steady him. The troll is already turning and charging back angrily, and all Jade does is eye the rest of the spiders with something stronger than disdain in her eyes. It's like she would give up her powers if they could be exterminated.

The hall quickly returns to confusion. There are tiny charred corpses littering the floor and two very angry trolls that swing and thrust and do their very best to wound those that they fight, and now added to the fray is a girl flickering here and there and somehow managing to make everyone's blows come to nothing. Rose has long since gotten to her feet and had her hand taken by the troll servant that had been telling her stories less than an hour before.

“Come on,” he says earnestly, and begins to pull her back toward the stairs. “We can make it back-”  
“No you don't,” Eridan growls, too close to them. His blade twists away from Dave and suddenly Rose is not being pulled by anyone. Tavros doesn't sink to the floor: there is nothing stylized in the way he falls, nor in the way his brown blood coats the floor. He barely breathes in enough to scream.

Dave knows to step back before Jade even appears in front of him. He can _feel_ the anger radiating from her, and doesn't know whether to be thankful that her back has blocked the sight of the fallen troll. The witch says nothing, but she makes a sound that doesn't sound human – she _yowls_ , and Dave wonders how she ever communicated with her dog when it still lived. He has to wrench himself away from the angry girl to help John, who sounds like he is in trouble.

It is truly chaotic. Even the sidelines are no longer safe. There is nothing but noise and fighting in the hall, and Rose can do nothing to help. Tavros lays helpless on the floor in front of her, one leg notched neatly above the knee, and all she can think of doing is pulling the bag from her shoulders and fishing out her spare skirt. She is no expert at ripping material, and the strips she tears it into do not seem long or thick or sturdy enough, but she has nothing else that she could use as a bandage. She does her best at tying them above the wound, and hopes it isn't too loose or too tight. Her fingers stain brown and her brows knit together as she works: she has never before felt so panicked and helpless, and intensely dislikes the feeling, but the battlefield is not her place. She can neither heal nor fight, and once she has tugged the last knot snug, reaches to her bag once more in the vain hope that something in there will make everything better. Her fingers brush against curved glass, and an idea begins to form in her mind.

However well Eridan fights, Vriska far excels. She is able to duel with two men at the same time and seems as though she will never tire. She is a whirlwind of fury and it is terrifying. She knocks John to the side and concentrates her efforts on Dave, who has never fought with anything so vicious before, and he thinks that this is what a feral girl must be like. If his attention were not fully caught, he would doubtlessly think of Rose, and imagine her to fight the same way if backed into a corner, all teeth and nails and doing whatever it takes to achieve her goal. Something catches Vriska's eye suddenly, and the distraction is all Dave needs to push the advantage. Now it is she who is being driven back and having to block every blow, and still he does not wish to hurt her.

A small stoppered bottle full of something a deep blue rolls to a stop by John's chin. He looks at it dumbly, wits still not entirely about him.  
“Drink it!” Rose cries from the opposite side of the battlefield. She had rolled it with her breath held, expecting it to be kicked off course by Jade or her opponent, both of who are moving quickly and ferociously, but it had stayed true to its path and came to no harm. She hopes it is because it is lucky. John looks at Rose, and they are both startled by Vriska's enraged scream.

_DON'T YOU DARE DRINK THAT!!!!!!!!_

He decides it is for the best if he ignores what the troll says, and lifts the bottle easily. The wax is quickly scratched out and the liquid swallowed – it tastes no worse than salty water, and feels no different for downing it. The troll is bearing down fast on him, and he scrambles to his feet once more, heavily weary of wielding a blade. He will be rethinking how he sees himself in the future.

John barely blocks the blow that Vriska deals him, and she is staring at him as though no being can commit a worse sin. Her cheeks are flushed cerulean with outrage, and she swings her sword up with both hands.  
“You,” she says, and Dave steps forward to protect the prince. His sword is knocked straight out of his hands and sent spinning wildly across the floor; she brushes him aside as though he is nothing and stalks forward to John. She lifts the rapier once again, and slashes over and over. The strikes shake his arm, but this time it is tolerable. “ _Son_ ,” and he hisses at Dave to move out of the way. He does, and the prince's blade is free to block, block, thrust, parry, riposte. “ _Of of a BITCH_.”

Something has happened. It seems that no matter how she now swings at John, he is able to block every time with ease, and the wild-eyed troll is faltering now. He hears a hissed _get her!_ from behind, and takes the advice: she overswings and there is a very clear opening. He presses forward, cuts the side of her ragged dress open, coating the tip of his blade with blue. She eyes him like a wary animal, and does not jump forward to attack again. Dave takes the moment to glance for his weapon and is trated instead with the vision of Jade glaring coldly down at Eridan, who is now on his knees and bowing his head forward. She is drawing shapes in the air with both index fingers, and the troll prince's wrists glow as though bound by magic. The weapon itself appears to have gone missing, and Dave feels honestly naked without it. No matter how the tides have turned, it does not seem right to be defenceless when faced with enemies.

He looks back to see John glance his way and light up with a grin. It's obvious he's exuberant at being able to spar and not be beaten – whatever was in the bottle has bolstered his confidence greatly. The expression changes to confusion as Dave raises his hands in frustration – _John, look out, you haven't won yet!_ – and he looks back to see Vriska attack again.

The prince barely catches the blow, and his own weapon falls to the floor with a clatter that sounds far too loud for such a large hall. John's knees weaken: he wobbles where he stands but doesnt fall, and there is nothing anyone can do except stare in horror as the troll lifts her sword high.

The blow does not fall. The rapier remains aloft, and at such close proximity, John can see the muscles in her arms trembling as she keeps it up. Her expression has not changed; one would expect someone suffering a strike through the chest to at the very least wince, but she seems no less than absolutely enraged.

It is of course Rose that stands behind her wielding Dave's lost sword, Rose who has very little upper arm strength and must hold the hilt with both hands, and even then her grip wavers. She may not have pierced the troll through the heart proper, but it is easy to tell that her wound will be fatal given no-one comes to her aid. One glance around the hall could confirm the fate of the troll. The princess pushes again, shoving it to the hilt, and steps back. Blue blood trickles slowly down the end of the tilted blade and drips to the floor slowly. Her ragged clothes are staining a much darker shade. Vriska lowers her own weapon and lets it fall to the ground, and looks down at the metal sticking out from her gut.

She says nothing. The anger on her face has faded somewhat – she looks somewhat puzzled – and she does not move. She stays standing where she is, and doesn't raise her arms to attempt to pull the weapon free. A long moment of nothing passes, and she cranes her neck to the side to see her murderer, who stares silently back. It seems like a vacuum has descended on the hall and sucked every bit of noise away: even Tavros' wailing has momentarily subsided.

Then she grunts, and moves slowly to tug herself free. Her reach extends until the sword is only halfway out, and she does not make a sound as her hand falls back to her side. The weapon continues sliding out of her, weighted by the pommel, and clatters to the floor. The blood seeping from her body noticeably increases, and the splatter of it on the stone floor is nausea-inducing.

It feels like an entire age passes before Vriska's knees give out and she sinks to the floor. For all the mania she displays, she does this rather elegantly, and she continues to look no more than confused, like she doesn't quite understand what's going on. Rose does nothing but stare at her the entire time, her face expressionless. It is impossible to tell what she is thinking.

Tavros is the one that breaks the silence. He whimpers again, and that seems to jolt the humans back to live. Dave and John exchange glances that clearly ask each other _what the fuck just happened and how do we deal with it_. The knight turns to the witch and asks in a low voice if she's okay. She nods and runs off to Tavros' side. Dave looks back at John, who has had his attention stolen by the remaining females, and decides to follow after her instead.

The prince makes to move and doesn't.  
“Um,” he says, and his voice is faint. Rose looks at him for the first time since she was a young girl and does not recognize him as someone that she was once acquainted with, though she knows full well who he is. His armour bears the symbol of Maple Valley's kingdom and he looks like he has never seen someone die before.

Rose hasn't either, but she does not feel as though the experience is particularly affecting her. It had to be the troll or everyone else in the room, and she feels no remorse for self-protection. She does not feel victorious or depressed by her actions; it is simply another strange thing she has had to do since she has left her home.  
“Uh. Princess. Princess Rose?”

She raises an eyebrow. He swallows and glances at the dying body of Vriska, who has not shut her eyes and is staring intently at the floor. He can't tear his eyes away from the corpse-to-be. “My- my name is John Egbert. Of, uh, the next- next kingdom over from Rox- I mean, Queen Roxy's-”  
Rose does not think of herself as a compassionate person, but she does not want anyone to hurt unnecessarily. She approaches him, ignoring the troll entirely, and crouches next to him. This close she can see the sweat on his forehead.

“I know who you are,” she says, and sounds so sweet. “I remember meeting you when I was younger. It's been a while, John.”  
He still can't look away. Rose hesitates, and places her fingertips gently on his cheeks, directing his gaze away from the dying troll. “Uh,” he says again, brows slowly knitting together as though nothing makes sense. She attempts a smile, and it doesn't feel like it fits on her face. All she can think about is the responsibility she is going to have to shoulder from now on: the role of saved-damsel that she does not want to uphold; the preparations for a marriage she surely won't be able to avoid.

_No_ , she thinks, and ignores all of it in favour of keeping John's eyes on her.


	5. Chapter 5

_I have been away from the forest for far too long_ , she thinks.

She is right. What she once knew as home stands tall and foreboding and unfamiliar in front of her now. She has travelled long and hard to get away from this strange, cursed place, and trained herself to forget what it is like to be herself. It is daytime she sees most of, and civilisation that she partakes in: too long now has she tried to ignore what she is and succeeded. Sunlight beats down on her, and it is a mark of the strength of her character that she does not shy from it and cover herself further. There is not much of her grey skin on display to be burnt in the first place, but she has a hood, and she refuses to pull it up. Her skin does not flush with the tinted blood that lays underneath its surface.

The other humans that she had travelled with to get here thought she was strange, and she knows it. Kanaya cannot refute that statement: she is the opposite of what humans expect from her race. She has limbs as a human does, sleeps during the night, and has interests in things besides fighting. She takes pains to stand up straight and speak carefully and clearly. A human once called her _elegant_ , though she is not sure the word suits her so well. She is still, after all, a troll, merely one with manners. 

There have been many rumours that reached her ears over the sea. News travels slowly, but it travels nonetheless, and she has slowly collected many an interesting piece of information about her home after she left it. Sometimes what she learned made her stomach clench and wish to return, and other times she felt that her actions were entirely justified and quite honestly the more intelligent option, but nothing seemed as though it was out of place. If the Condesce killed another lowblood, it was hardly news. She had been expecting to live out the rest of her life quietly, unassuming and unimposing, keeping up to date with whatever trickled through to her location, but that hadn't been the case.

Bremen had been rather taken aback to learn that a troll prince had been ousted from his castle and stripped of his power by a small group of humans. The excitement had lasted weeks, even though the tale itself had ended after a short four days. Trolls and humans alike gossiped where they could, talking names and justice and wishing they could be a part of fantastic journey like that. Kanaya had listened and input from time to time, and been adequately shocked when she realised not all of the story's participants were unknown to her.

She now treads the forest without fear. Most of its inhabitants are slumbering: it's dark in here, but it's also warm, and she has never met another troll with the same capacity for the sunshine and daytime as she has. That doesn't stop her encountering creatures that aren't nocturnal. A rat has the bad idea to scuttle toward her and is squashed beneath her fat-toed foot without mercy, snuffed out of life without a second thought.  
Kanaya may be strange, but she is still a troll.

It's only as she draws further into the forest that she lifts the hood. It falls to cover half of her face neatly: her horns still poke through unobstructed and the silver fastening about her shoulders glints invitingly, but her eyes are covered and she is for the most part unrecognisable. Not for the first time, she is glad that the colours she wears allow her to blend in with the forest. If she stays still enough, less intelligent creatures will mistake her for a strangely-shaped bush and leave her alone. The solitude is more than fine with her.

She walks a long way by herself. There is no need for company in here: she feels a mixture of lonely and satisfied. Waking during the day meant that she was inviting herself to the strange chatter and company that humans engaged in all the time - in their society, being alone was no good thing, and she had learnt very quickly to make companionships and indulge them frequently. It had almost been an annoyance, though she had become used to it over time, and she had never been one to make conversation for the sake of speaking. Reserving her speech now was comforting, and though she knew the silence was something to revel in, it felt as though something was missing, too.

She doesn't know how long she's been in the forest for when she first hears the stir of bushes. Things are slowly starting to wake - those more in danger of being carelessly slaughtered if found scavenging in the playgrounds of highbloods. They freeze as she passes, and she pays them no mind. They do not extend the same courtesy to her.

"Give me what you own. All a' it."

Kanaya stops when she is addressed and does not bother to lift her hood. There is only one that has bothered to stand up and try and fight her: she has passed a lot of these poor creatures and been ignored for the most part, and now one lone figure thinks to challenge her.

" _Now_."  
"I do not think it a good idea to challenge someone of higher status than yourself," she says calmly, and the lowblood sniggers.  
"I don't give a fuck what you think. Give me your things."

It is here that she turns, and lifts her hood just enough to let her eyes see more than the forest floor. The troll that stands before her looks as cocky as he sounds and wears clothes tattier than she thought could be imagined - a part of her shudders and wants nothing more than to sit with him and patch up the holes and at least make him look presentable - and his eyes snap to the silver emblem that keeps her cloak about her shoulders.  
"Kan," he says, and nothing short of surprise runs through her.  
"Prince Eridan."

He seems to slump at that. Maybe his past is too weighty to bear: it certainly explains his appearance. It has been a very long time since they were last acquainted, but he is still himself, though trying to hide it desperately. His hair hangs over his aural frills and he keeps looking back and forth at the ground. She is a complete contrast, back still straight and face emotionless.  
"I heard what happened."  
"You an' the rest a' the fuckin' forest," he spits bitterly, and a terrible emotion scrunches his features up. She thinks it might be embarrassment, but she's never seen the expression on anything but a human. Trolls try not to regret the past. "Come to gloat?"

"Of course not. I have my own reasons for coming here. Seeing you like this is merely an added bonus."  
"Those reasons bein'..."

She doesn't answer. From under her hood, she stares at the other troll for a long while; he returns the gaze steadily. There is no need to explain why she returned – he likely already knows, and if he doesn't, then she is not so intimidated that she will spill her secrets to him. A higher caste he may be, but so very disgraced. After the things she has heard, she is the more powerful of the two. It's obvious even in the way they stand: his shoulders haven't perked up again, and his eyes are sunken and tired. He looks away, eyes finally beginning to water. Kanaya feels no sympathy for him.

“Where've you even been hiding?” he mutters instead, and she isn't sure whether it's a legitimate question or not. “It's like your lot just up an' vanished into thin fuckin' air.”  
She sees no reason in not answering. “There wasn't much to do once the princess disappeared. I cannot speak for the rest, but my services were no longer needed, so I left. I travelled.”  
“You ran away,” he says, and sounds honestly amazed. He looks at her again just in time to see her stoical expression break, and a slow grin spreads across his face. “Why, miss Maryam. I never took you for a deserter.”  
“Believe what you will,” she replies. They both know he's correct in his assumption. “I had my reasons both for leaving and returning. What of you, _your majesty_? How does the life of a peasant suit you?”  
“Shut up.”

Kanaya is suddenly overcome with an urge to thank whatever troll deity might be listening to her thoughts for not subjecting Eridan to her company very often. She had never been privy to more than a handful of conversations with him, and never truly enjoyed his presence. There is something wholeheartedly smug and infuriating about him, even when he has nothing of his own. On occasion he can be tolerable, she knows this, but she is glad that she has not had to suffer him more than has been absolutely necessary. Highbloods are impossible to entertain for too long if one's blood is any warmer than indigo.  
“If there is nothing else, then,” she says, and tugs the front of her hood down again. She cannot afford to waste time dawdling with a fallen figure of importance, not when there is so much forest yet to be crossed. She is here for a reason, and Eridan isn't it. With her eyes mostly obscured, she misses the way his head jerks up and his shoulders stiffen.  
“Wait, Kan. Can't you – stay a while. What's a friend for, huh?”

She says nothing, and simply watches his feet carefully. He makes no move to come closer. “Come on,” he tries again, and for all the pure _want_ in his voice right now, he might as well be on his knees and begging her, hands fisted in her robes. “You could listen to me, an' I'll hear you out as well-”  
“I have better things to be doing,” she interrupts. She imagines his face to look utterly crestfallen, and takes no delight in the image. “I didn't come back to play the role of your moirail.”

With that, she turns away from him and begins to walk again. Her ears are strained, listening carefully for his footfalls to follow her, and readies herself to fight and curse and act entirely uncivilized, but it appears her fears are unfounded. Only silence follows her. She turns after a minute of walking, tilting her head back to see clearly, and sees nothing except for brush all around. It is strange to think that once she had been entirely used to this place: used to the way it felt like one was being tailed at all times and constantly in danger. It feels like her wariness has been worn too thin. The sooner she is able to leave, the better.

Even though she feels entirely out of place, there is no way to go but forward. There is no trail for her to follow, and she is aware that she should be lost, but it seems that even sweeps away from her home is not enough to wipe her memory clear. She has walked the forest too many times and had its layout imprinted firmly into her mind – even if she does not realise where she is, her feet are able to take her further and further forward until something seems familiar. She walks almost absently until she notices fallen trees here and there and the way the earth is depressed around them, and knows she is halfway to her goal. Past halfway, if she considers the voyage and the time it took to walk to the forest itself. There are still at least two hours before the sun begins to set – two hours of her safety being somewhat guaranteed. Highbloods do not rear their heads until the last rays of light have well and truly disappeared.

There are trolls scuttling about, of course, but she is less interested in avoiding them. It's remaining safe and anonymous that is most of the reason why she travels under the protection of the sun: she was expecting to be able to hide from all the faces she recognised from sweeps before by walking most of the forest during the daytime. That plan has not yet sunk – she may have been stopped by Eridan, but he has no place in alerting anyone to her presence. The so-called rules of the forest were more than confusing – it was theorised that not even the most beloved Condescension knew every one, but that wouldn't stop her servants from making sure that they were carried out as often as possible. It was likely that the fickle empress of the forest had changed a great many laws for her own enjoyment and let her people find out for themselves what was suddenly wrong to do, and Kanaya had no doubt that she was unknowingly breaking many of them.

She is taking so much longer at crossing the forest by taking a route around the centre, but she does not want to take any chances. Her clothes at least define her as being able to take care of herself, for they are of obvious quality, and she would be entirely justified in scorning any lowblood that criticised her natural right to wear jade – she has always fancied the clothes she wears make it seem as though she is somewhat flushed – but she is only midway on the spectrum. Stumble too close to the heart of the forest and there would undoubtedly be severe repercussions. Kanaya is in no mood to be questioned and hanged today. Her blood would not be enough to save her should the Condesce's servants get their claws on her, and her name is not unknown. There is too much danger in following those who aren't true royalty.

 _Stupid, stupid_ , she thinks, and the word becomes a silent mantra repeated with every step she takes. Trolls are not meant to regret their past actions, but she is finding that a difficult task. By all accounts, Kanaya is not a very good troll, and it is something she is becoming more and more aware of as she heads further into the forest. Her lips purse as she walks, and the echoes of _stupid, stupid, stupid_ never leave her mind. She is glad that she has no company. Distraction from her past mistakes is not what she thinks she needs right now.

The rest of her journey passes uneventfully. It feels almost anticlimactic: she hears trolls stir and prowling as she sun sets, but sees very little of them. Her back is kept straight and her pace quick, and there are no trolls that stop her as Eridan had. Her poise is enough to keep others away from her, something which she grows particularly aware of. Whenever she thinks she hears footsteps creeping closer she stiffens her shoulders once more and walks a little quicker. If nothing else, it keeps her moving quickly – she thinks even with her current pace the moon will be high in the sky by the time she exits the forest. There's a long way to go yet, though she knows which direction to head in and where the shortcuts are, knows that there is danger all around her and that stopping is almost as good as a death sentence.

At one point she begins to hear things she cannot see. She doesn't stop walking, but she does turn her head this way and that, and wonders briefly if she is going bad The thought s quickly brushd to the side: the hushed noise of giggling and splashing is none of her concern, and she cannot afford to waste time looking for its source. There's a high chance it will be a pair of matesprits tangled up in each other – if not, then it is likely a trap. She ignores the yelp that follows, and keeps her mind focused. There is a place she must get to, and there is no sense in stopping.

Her mind has since quieted, and she is at least thankful for that. There is little more unnerving that being unable to switch her thoughts off. It is not something she is unused to: far too many times has she lain awake at night berating herself for what feels like her entire existence. Her horns do not match; she is so different from the rest of her race; it feels like all companionships she has made since crossing the sea have been forced. She had expected the dissatisfaction with herself to occupy her mind more than anything else as she travelled, but now she is under the familiar canopy of leaves and feels used to the forest once more, she is thankful she was wrong.

It is dark when the leaves above finally begin to thin and the night sky is revealed. Kanay's estimations were correct: the night sky is absolutely littered with stars, although there is cloud where the moon ought to be, but she isn't sad not to see it. Its silvery glow is at least still visible, and in all honesty she is rather tired of watching its slow progress across the sky most nights of the voyage. More important than its presence are the traces of other beings here before her – she doesn't think she is entirely alone, and the earth is well-trodden beneath her. She is so far from the centre, and she knows it could only be a brave mutant that dares to walk here and drink in the unfiltered starlight, but if she truly does have company, it makes no noise and leaves her well alone. That suits her just fine.

In the distance – not too far, but long enough for her to think the cloud may well obscure a different part of the sky before she reaches it – a great stone castle looms. It is just as imposing as the forest was earlier in the day: more so, if the rumours are correct. Humans dwelling in troll property is unhead of, especially with the minimal protection they supposedly employ. Only strong humans would be brave enough to do that – they act as though there is no danger in being so close to the forest, nor living with those that should be protected by the trees. One of the rumours that has reached her ears has several trolls of a distinctly low caste residing within the stone walls and working for the people that crossed their forest over a month ago. It seems like the humans have no intention of leaving this place.

More surprising than that is the Condesce's behaviour. She has not bothered to come out of the forest to introduce herself or take back her castle. Perhaps she does not find them a threat, or simply does not care – whatever her reasons, it is the same as a silent declaration of acceptance for these people. The humans are not unwanted visitors, nor are they trespassing. It is most strange behaviour for one who loves staking claim to all she can get her webbed hands on.

As she draws closer, Kanaya is surprised to find that the castle really does seem unguarded. There is no hint of trolls or humans standing in the archways that lead into the building, and the gates to the garden are both open and similarly unattended. It's like anyone is allowed to enter no matter what intentions they might have; there is a great likelihood that not many trolls wish to leave the safety of the forest and protection is not a necessary thing, but she had thought that greater caution might have been exercised.

She ignores both the castle and her surprise and enters the gardens. It's entirely silent and too dark to tell how the plants are arranged, but she knows it is too late in the year for flowers now, and thinks she is not missing much. The moon is beginning to peak out of the expanse of cloud that seems to be taking up more and more sky as time passes, and the light it casts is downright eerie – shadows are cast here and there and the grass underfoot is cold enough to make her shiver, but Kanaya isn't scared. She has been in stranger places before. Here, at least, she isn't in danger.

As she meanders deeper into the gardens, it feels like less and less is happening around her. The bushes don't seem quite so busy, and the further forward she treads, the more assured she feels that she is going the right way. She isn't disappointed – out of the ground ahead of her juts out an almost unassuming headstone. She almost misses it; the sky is cloudy enough for the moon's light to be obscured, but once she sees it, she is in no doubt that this is what she is looking for. Though the gardens are silent, it feels more like sound itself has been sucked entirely away as she approaches it and lowers her hood to read the inscription.

 _Vriska, troll_.

That's it. This is the only gravestone in the area, and there is nothing else carved into the rock, though she gets up close to it and feels her way across it with her fingers to be extra sure. It's disappointing. She'd almost been expecting a concise list of achievements, perhaps a line lamenting the fall of the one that lay here now – but what would Kanaya know? Trolls do not bury their own kind. It's strange enough that Vriska's body hasn't been returned to the forest to be torn to pieces and used to feed a lucky lowblood. Perhaps her post-mortem description doesn't need pomp.

As she thinks, she becomes very aware that she is standing over earth packed tightly over and around a fellow troll's body. It's not a nice thought – her breath suddenly comes short, and she has to back away from the headstone to gaze at it from a distance. It's harder to see what's carved on it from a few feet back, but the words still reverberate in her head.  
Kanaya is no stranger to death, but she's never known anyone personally that has died. _It shouldn't be like this_ , she decides. She should still be across the ocean pretending that she is happy with her new life and Vriska should still be making the most of every single push of blood.

It feels like she's feeling for the first time in a long time. Her mind is positively buzzing with activity and her own bloodpusher is thumping hard in her chest.  
“How long are you going to watch me?” she asks, because though she feels sick with emotion, she isn't unaware that she is no longer alone.  
“I had rather hoped to get away without being noticed, actually.”

She turns, and is met with the sight of the palest human she has ever seen standing only a little way from her. Her hair and skin both seem like they're glowing in the strange light that the moon affords, and her eyes are trained on the troll. It's the kind of gaze that would probably be terrifying to behold were she in the mood to be scared by anything. She's almost thankful for the overwhelming sensations Vriska's death has rewarded her with.  
“You knew her?” the girl asks.

Kanaya nods, and resists the urge to turn back to the stone once more. The human makes no move to approach, but her eyes slide away from the troll to the stone block. Her face is hard to read when it is half-hidden by shadow.  
"I'm sorry," she says. Kanaya thinks she means it honestly.  
"Why?"  
She expects to be given the answer she has received many times in Bremen, the answer she has herself learnt to give: _I'm sorry for your loss. It's truly a pity your acquaintance has passed on; they were undeserving of the fate that befell them so early in their lives. They were a good person._ She has something to say about anything the human might offer by way of apology.  
"I killed her."

Her thoughts are quickly amended. _Almost_ anything. This is something the rumours have omitted entirely. In her mind, Vriska died a hero's death – the former prince, perhaps, had been the one to knock the sword from her hand and offer her freedom or protection. The blueblood would have scoffed, tossed her hair over one shoulder and demanded he take her life instead, and possibly spat at his shoes. It would have been the perfect romantic ending.

She finds herself rather disappointed to learn this isn't the case, and imagines it shows on her face. The human shifts her weight from one foot to the other and has the decency to look faintly embarrassed. The troll finds she can only manage an “Oh,” and follows it up with an equally eloquent “Well, then,” and this time does turn away to look at the block of stone again.

 _Vriska, troll. Vriska, troll._ It really does feel like there should be more there, but she can't think what. The girl is dead and gone and represented by a slab of cold stone.  
"How did you know her?" the voice behind her asks. "You don't seem like the kind of company she'd keep. You don't seem... well, crazy enough."

This, at least, elicits a twitch at the side of Kanaya's mouth. This stranger is not the first person to say that. “I was her maid,” she answers. Saying it out loud feels strange. It feels like several lifetimes ago. “When she was less crazy and had some semblance of power.”  
“Power? Surely she didn't have any of that, asides from everyone below her on the hemospectrum. As far as I'm aware, she wasn't royalty.”  
She doesn't want to be, but she's impressed. There aren't many humans that could speak so confidently about troll culture and be correct. Not many bother to learn.

“You're not wrong, but that doesn't stop trolls from pretending that they are. Her Imperious Condescension doesn't take kindly to impostors – Vriska at least eluded that particular end.”  
“If she was so confident she could pull it off, why did she...” the human trails off, and there is silence as she thinks of how to reword her question. “She didn't exactly seem powerful when I met her.”

At that, Kanaya raises a hand and runs it through her hair. It is the first time that she has willingly allowed herself to be anything less than immaculate in front of someone she knows nothing about, but it is dark. Remembering the past is not an easy thing.  
“She wasn't. It wasn't to her liking, in the end, so she fled. She was able to gain the support of a few trolls initially and declared herself a princess, and hid with them before the Condesce could find her. She said being served was an important part of having power.”  
“You were one of them.”

The troll nods in answer and presses her lips together as she thinks. In her mind's eye there's a figure with messy black hair that grins and winks and has seven pupils in the eye that stays open. She wonders what made her think following the crazed troll had been a good idea in the first place, and pushes the thought aside quickly.  
“The long version of this story has a lot of unnecessary detail. It's enough to say she probably bored after a while. Living quietly was not her style. Her kismesis at the time promised her a place by his side and protection, and that was good enough for her for a while, but I think he took too long. She would probably have been a proper princess by our standards had she waited a little longer.”  
“Eridan?”  
"Yes. His blood is almost the richest thing on our spectrum. I don't know what happened between them - Vriska's hate burnt itself out, maybe. For whatever reason, she  
left. Her servants fled too. I travelled across the sea to keep my head, and only heard recently that she was dead. I had to come and see for myself."  
"Why?"

Kanaya opens her mouth to answer, and finds she has no desire to explain. Her cheeks burn as she shuts her mouth and hopes that she isn't colouring too brightly, forgetting that humans have terrible night vision. Silence stretches between the two, and asides from the troll's embarrassment, it doesn't feel uncomfortable, or particularly unfamiliar. Her eyes remain fixed on the stone in front of them, and she tries again to come up with a suitable epithet.  
 _Vriska Serket, troll princess,_ her mind supplies, but it doesn't seem right. None of this does. Everything has been strange forever.

"I don't blame her," the girl says suddenly. Kanaya can't see her, but she thinks her eyes are trained on the headstone as well. She imagines the human looks thoughtful. "It gets old very quickly, having everything work out for you and your power to be absolute. With nothing happening it's easy to become bored."

The pieces seem to fall into place at her words. The troll had no idea this was even a puzzle, had been too concerned with the strange melancholy that filled her to realise that not knowing the other's identity was something she should possibly have been solving. It makes perfect sense: only ghosts and people dissatisfied with their lives wander around their gardens in the dead of night. She turns, and knows her mouth is open. She isn't sure whether it's in reverence or surprise.

“Your majesty-” she begins.  
“Don't,” Rose says sharply. Her eyes are indeed trained on the headstone, and Kanaya can see the beginning of a crease between her eyebrows. “Just- don't. That isn't my name, but it's what everyone calls me. I didn't come out here to be reminded what it's like to be stuck inside all the time. It's no better than when I was before, except now I know what the rest of the world is like, and I know I hate it even more.”

The trolls lips twitch again. She thinks she's heard a similar thing before, and she also thinks it's fitting that this girl was the one to deal the blow to kill Vriska. The one lying beneath the ground mere feet from them should have been happy with the end she was dealt.  
“Do you really hate it?” she asks.  
“Yes,” Rose answers without hesitation, and then worries her lip. “No. I- I don't know. I think so.”

She really is frowning now. Being expressive suits her, Kanaya thinks, and is a little disappointed to see the human shut her eyes and take a deep breath to smooth her brow out. There's no doubt that there's a lot of thoughts pent up in this one – she has a good mask to hide them all, but it isn't perfect. It makes a nice change from the faux princess Kanaya served before, who cackled and scowled and pursed her lips whenever she felt like nothing had happened for too long. She's also aware that she didn't know half of what Vriska thought about.  
“I understand,” she says, and means it.

Rose turns her head sharply away, and the troll follows her gaze. She's staring at the castle now, just another great slab of stone jutting out of the ground, but she's looking at it so intently. Surely there's no details she can see from this distance – not even Kanaya can make anything in particular out, but she seems to be able to glean something from it. She doesn't look back as she speaks again.  
“What if I go?”

The night feels very strange about them. It isn't heavy – it's entirely weightless, as though that one question has diffused all the tension that had hung between the two – but it absolutely does not feel normal. Perhaps they're both dreaming.  
“Do you want to?”  
It's so very different from anything Kanaya has experience with. The last time she had been aware a princess had deserted her post, her opinion had not been sought. Vriska hadn't needed the opinions of others to validate her decisions. If it suited her, she did it. The two girls are so different, and so similar, too. Rose's gaze hasn't broken from the castle, and the troll wonders whether she is thinking of the people within, and whether they will miss her.

“Yes,” she says. She doesn't follow it up with an explanation. She's silent, and the troll isn't sure what she should say next, and then- “I'm going to.”  
Kanaya has no response to that. She isn't sure that she would have one even if she had expected that addition.

The human looks away from the building, _her_ building, at long last, and the sharpness of her gaze almost hurts. It's a look fuelled by power. It suits her.  
“Will you come with me?”

Kanaya hears the question, and she also hears _God, fussyfangs, do you have to follow me everywhere?_ She thinks one day this princess will also realise that she doesn't need a maid and will be able to do things entirely her way, that she won't need to rely on anyone for their help or opinions. She thinks that day probably won't be far off.

She nods.


End file.
